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Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is important information about your specific rights and restrictions in how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. **Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** **eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** *****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** Title: Siddhartha Author: Herman Hesse Release Date: February, 2001 [EBook #2500] [Most recently updated: October 23, 2002] Edition: 10 Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, SIDDHARTHA *** This etext was produced by Michael Pullen <>, with original translations made by: Gunther Olesch, Anke Dreher, Amy Coulter, Stefan Langer, Semyon Chaichenets. Proofreading corrections were done by Chandra Yenco <> and Isaac Jones <>. SIDDHARTHA An Indian Tale by Hermann Hesse FIRST PART To Romain Rolland, my dear friend THE SON OF THE BRAHMAN In the shade of the house, in the sunshine of the riverbank near the boats, in the shade of the Sal-wood forest, in the shade of the fig tree is where Siddhartha grew up, the handsome son of the Brahman, the young falcon, together with his friend Govinda, son of a Brahman. The sun tanned his light shoulders by the banks of the river when bathing, performing the sacred ablutions, the sacred offerings. In the mango grove, shade poured into his black eyes, when playing as a boy, when his mother sang, when the sacred offerings were made, when his father, the scholar, taught him, when the wise men talked. For a long time, Siddhartha had been partaking in the discussions of the wise men, practising debate with Govinda, practising with Govinda the art of



reflection, the service of meditation. He already knew how to speak the Om silently, the word of words, to speak it silently into himself while inhaling, to speak it silently out of himself while exhaling, with all the concentration of his soul, the forehead surrounded by the glow of the clear-thinking spirit. He already knew to feel Atman in the depths of his being, indestructible, one with the universe. Joy leapt in his father's heart for his son who was quick to learn, thirsty for knowledge; he saw him growing up to become great wise man and priest, a prince among the Brahmans. Bliss leapt in his mother's breast when she saw him, when she saw him walking, when she saw him sit down and get up, Siddhartha, strong, handsome, he who was walking on slender legs, greeting her with perfect respect. Love touched the hearts of the Brahmans' young daughters when Siddhartha walked through the lanes of the town with the luminous forehead, with the eye of a king, with his slim hips. But more than all the others he was loved by Govinda, his friend, the son of a Brahman. He loved Siddhartha's eye and sweet voice, he loved his walk and the perfect decency of his movements, he loved everything Siddhartha did and said and what he loved most was his spirit, his transcendent, fiery thoughts, his ardent will, his high calling. Govinda knew: he would not become a common Brahman, not a lazy official in charge of offerings; not a greedy merchant with magic spells; not a vain, vacuous speaker; not a mean, deceitful priest; and also not a decent, stupid sheep in the herd of the many. No, and he, Govinda, as well did not want to become one of those, not one of those tens of thousands of Brahmans. He wanted to follow Siddhartha, the beloved, the splendid. And in days to come, when Siddhartha would become a god, when he would join the glorious, then Govinda wanted to follow him as his friend, his companion, his servant, his spear-carrier, his shadow. Siddhartha was thus loved by everyone. He was a source of joy for everybody, he was a delight for them all. But he, Siddhartha, was not a source of joy for himself, he found no delight in himself. Walking the rosy paths of the fig tree garden, sitting in the bluish shade of the grove of contemplation, washing his limbs daily in the bath of repentance, sacrificing in the dim shade of the mango forest, his gestures of perfect decency, everyone's love and joy, he still lacked all joy in his heart. Dreams and restless thoughts came into his mind, flowing from the water of the river, sparkling from the stars of the night, melting from the beams of the sun, dreams came to him and a restlessness of the soul, fuming from the sacrifices, breathing forth from the verses of the Rig-Veda, being infused into him, drop by drop, from the teachings of the old Brahmans. Siddhartha had started to nurse discontent in himself, he had started to feel that the love of his father and the love of his mother, and also the love of his friend, Govinda, would not bring him joy for ever and ever, would not nurse him, feed him, satisfy him. He had started to suspect that his venerable father and his other teachers, that the wise Brahmans had already revealed to him the most and best of their wisdom, that they had already filled his expecting vessel with their richness, and the vessel was not full, the spirit was not content, the soul was not calm, the heart was not satisfied. The ablutions were good, but they were water, they did not wash off the sin, they did not heal the spirit's thirst, they did not relieve the fear in his heart. The sacrifices and the invocation of the gods were excellent--but was that all? Did the sacrifices give a happy fortune? And what about the gods? Was it really Prajapati who had created the world? Was it not the Atman, He, the only one, the singular one? Were the gods not creations, created like me and you, subject to time, mortal? Was it therefore good, was it right, was it meaningful and the highest occupation to make offerings to the gods? For whom else were offerings to be made, who else was to be worshipped but Him, the only one, the Atman? And where was Atman to be found, where did He reside, where did his eternal heart beat, where else but in one's own self, in its innermost part, in its indestructible part, which everyone had in himself? But where, where was this self, this innermost part, this ultimate part? It was not flesh and bone, it was neither thought nor consciousness, thus the wisest ones taught. So, where, where was it? To reach this place, the self, myself, the

But where were the Brahmans. where the wise men or penitents. it was time to perform the evening's ablution. the most venerable one. neither old nor young. was a detour. strive for a cleansing every day. the eternal thirst. "Your soul is the whole world". did not the pristine source spring from his heart? It had to be found. No. chiefly his father. Samanas had travelled through Siddhartha's town. Govinda twenty paces away." Often. three skinny. nobody knew it. the most important thing. Thus were Siddhartha's thoughts. they had taken care of everything and of more than everything. with dusty and bloody shoulders." They went to the Banyan tree. let's practise meditation. never he had quenched the ultimate thirst. it seemed near. After the usual time of the exercise in meditation had passed. from the disputes of the Brahmans? Why did he. who had succeeded in not just knowing this deepest of all knowledge but also to live it? Where was the knowledgeable one who wove his spell to bring his familiarity with the Atman out of the sleep into the state of being awake. but never he had reached it completely. The evening had come. the heavenly world. "Govinda. the heavenly world. quiet and noble were his manners. there was another way. and not the teachers and wise men. wonderful verses. my dear. this was his thirst. this was his suffering." Siddhartha spoke to his friend. wrapped up in contemplation. of inhaling. who had quenched it completely. almost naked. Behind . they knew everything. the arrangement of the senses. the arrow is soul. strangers and enemies to the world. did he live in blissfulness. the solely important thing? 4 Surely. it had to be possessed! Everything else was searching. would meet with his innermost part and would reside in the Atman. again and again. thinking Om. was he not also just a searching man. He called Siddhartha's name. all knowledge of the wisest ones had been collected here in magic words. Siddhartha sat there lost in thought. wise his words. the irreproachable one. was getting lost. have to wash off sins every day. and it was written that man in his sleep. into every step of the way. Marvellous wisdom was in these verses. That one should incessantly hit. the name of the Brahman is satyam--verily. of food. they sat down. Siddhartha did not answer. have to drink from holy sources. not the holy sacrificial songs! They knew everything. into word and deed? Siddhartha knew many venerable Brahmans. the pure one. was written there. His father was to be admired. the tip of his tongue was protruding a little between the teeth. surrounded by loneliness. Thus sat he. he who knows such a thing. many verses of the holy books. who had reached it completely. of exhaling. Siddhartha right here. the pristine source in one's own self.-. his eyes were rigidly focused towards a very distant target. into the life. scorched by the sun. Once. where the priests. And among all the wise and wisest men. particularly in the Upanishades of Samaveda. strangers and lank jackals in the realm of humans. they knew infinitely much--but was it valuable to know all of this. not the father. will enter the heavenly world every day. did he have peace. The Brahman is the arrow's target. and nobody showed this way. the scholar. his soul sent after the Brahman as an arrow. from the books. Siddhartha repeated murmuring the verse: Om is the bow. delicate and noble thoughts lived behind its brow --but even he. the acts of the gods. over and over every day? Was not Atman in him. spoke of this innermost and ultimate thing. ascetics on a pilgrimage. ready to speak the Om. he knew and whose instructions he had received. pure his life. not knowing that one and only thing. "Govinda. not to be looked down upon was the tremendous amount of enlightenment which lay here collected and preserved by innumerable generations of wise Brahmans. among all of them there was no one. withered men. While putting himself down.Siddhartha Atman. who knew so much. from the offerings. Often he spoke to himself from a Chandogya-Upanishad the words: "Truly. in his deep sleep. the creation of the world. the Brahmans and their holy books. which was worthwhile looking for? Alas. as a thirsty man. the origin of speech. come with me under the Banyan tree. he seemed not to breathe. pure as honey collected by bees. a thirsty man? Did he not. Govinda rose.

Speak no more of it. read the submission. filled his heart with anger. "O Siddhartha. Then spoke the father: "Not proper it is for a Brahman to speak harsh and angry words. since no sleep had come over his eyes. Govinda realized: Now it is beginning. and left the house. I came to tell you that it is my longing to leave your house tomorrow and go to the ascetics. "O Govinda. Through the small window of the chamber he looked back inside. Pale shimmered his bright robe. "What are you waiting for?" asked the father." Slowly.Siddhartha them blew a hot scent of quiet passion. Quoth Siddhartha: "You know what. read the fear. . when he heard these words and read the decision in the motionless face of his friend. the Brahman stood up. of destructive service. Siddhartha stood silently. he looked into the chamber. After an hour. not moving from his spot." 5 The Brahman fell silent. in the moon light. his arms folded. Siddhartha? Then say what you came to say. And he turned pale like a dry banana-skin. Silent and motionless stood the son with his arms folded. the father went back to bed. 'ere the silence was broken. With anxiety in his heart. saw Siddhartha standing. the Brahman rose. not moving from his spot. Through the window of the chamber he looked back inside. he went to his bed and lay down. in the darkness. saw him standing in the same place. After another hour. And he came back hour after hour. looked through the small window. And he came back after an hour. indignant. he came back after two hours. Siddhartha spoke to Govinda: "Early tomorrow morning. walked out of the house and saw that the moon had risen." Govinda turned pale. of merciless self-denial. But indignation is in my heart. there stood Siddhartha. May my father not oppose this. since no sleep had come over his eyes. until his father felt that someone was standing behind him." Siddhartha entered the chamber." Indignant. My desire is to become a Samana. "will your father permit you to do that?" Siddhartha looked over as if he was just waking up. the father left the chamber. Soon and with the first glance. and remained silent for so long that the stars in the small window wandered and changed their relative positions. and stepped behind his father and remained standing there. where his father was sitting on a mat of bast. In the evening. Tomorrow. He will become a Samana. moonlight reflecting from his bare shins. at daybreak I will begin the life of the Samanas. after the hour of contemplation. now Siddhartha is taking his own way. by the light of the stars. I wish not to hear this request for a second time from your mouth. paced to and fro. Arrow-fast he read in Govinda´s soul." he spoke quietly. paced to and fro. my friend. now his fate is beginning to sprout. his arms folded. unstoppable like the arrow shot from the bow. and there he saw Siddhartha standing. "let's not waste words." he exclaimed. silently. Siddhartha will go to the Samanas." Quoth Siddhartha: "With your permission. his arms folded. Quoth the Brahman: "Is that you. and the stars traced their paths in the sky. silent and motionless sat the father on the mat. With worry in his heart. the father returned to his bed. my father. the Brahman stood up again. and with his. my own.

Siddhartha." said Siddhartha and smiled. ." "I will not fall asleep. In Siddhartha's face he saw no trembling. and went to his mother to do as his father had said. Siddhartha. as he tried to walk. Siddhartha. "You have come. than obey your father?" "Siddhartha has always obeyed his father. "go into the forest and be a Samana. he returned. Then his father realized that even now Siddhartha no longer dwelt with him in his home." "You will die. saw the young man standing there. then come back and teach me to be blissful." he spoke." "Will you always stand that way and wait. that he had already left him." "I will become tired. "Siddhartha." "So will you abandon your plan?" "Siddhartha will do what his father will tell him to do." he spoke. Siddhartha wavered to the side. The Brahman saw that Siddhartha was trembling softly in his knees." "I will die. And in the night's last hour. "You will. Go now and kiss your mother. bowed to his father. then return and let us once again make offerings to the gods together. As he slowly left on stiff legs in the first light of day the still quiet town.Siddhartha filled his heart with unrest. The Father touched Siddhartha's shoulder. who had crouched there. until it'll becomes morning. filled his heart with anguish. "what are you waiting for?" "You know what. tell her where you are going to." He took his hand from the shoulder of his son and went outside. stepped into the room. "You will become tired. a shadow rose near the last hut. He put his limbs back under control. and joined the pilgrim--Govinda. filled it with sadness. But for me it is time to go to the river and to perform the first ablution. and evening?" "I will stand and wait. who seemed tall and like a stranger to him. When you'll have found blissfulness in the forest. If you'll find disappointment." 6 The first light of day shone into the room." "You will fall asleep." "And would you rather die. noon. his eyes were fixed on a distant spot. before the day began.

learned to get along with only few breathes.Siddhartha "I have come. shaggy beard grew on his chin. felt the pangs of a heron's hunger. awaited in new thirst like a hunter in the gap. Once all of my self was overcome and had died. from his hair the water was dripping over freezing shoulders. glowing with pain. had decayed. Instructed by the oldest if the Samanas. was a heron. hunger. his mouth twitched with contempt. Dead to himself. and stood there. Siddhartha sat upright and learned to breathe sparingly. a single goal: to become empty. until nothing stung any more. Silently. where an eternity without suffering began. stayed motionless. Silently. was scattered as dust. He learned. turned to dust. blood dripped from the burning skin. learned to stop breathing. where he could escape from the cycle. was his self again. Siddhartha practised self-denial. The world tasted bitter. sun shone or moon. He fasted for fifteen days. He fasted for twenty-eight days. when he walked through a city of nicely dressed people. was an animal. and it all was just concealed putrefaction. the great secret. through voluntarily suffering and overcoming pain. he stood there in the rainy season. decayed. where the end of the causes. physicians trying to help the sick. many ways leading away from the self he learned to go. and offered them their companionship and--obedience. Silently. that was his goal. turned into a skeleton. He saw merchants trading. he killed his memory. He went the way of self-denial by means of pain. got bloated. not to be a self any more. beginning with the breath. A heron flew over the bamboo forest--and Siddhartha accepted the heron into his soul. He went the way of self-denial by means of meditation. was water. then the ultimate part of me had to awake. stank. The flesh waned from his thighs and cheeks. it all stank of lies. from festering wounds dripped pus. priests determining the most suitable day for seeding. was skinned by vultures. empty of thirst. it all stank. They were accepted. unsown cloak. the innermost of my being. died a heron's death. flew over forest and mountains. leaned to reduce the beats of his heart. glowing with thirst." said Govinda. long nails grew slowly on his parched fingers and a dry. had died. was stone. the skinny Samanas. A goal stood before Siddhartha. felt thirst. mothers nursing their children--and all of this was not worthy of one look from his eye. was carrion. lovers loving. WITH THE SAMANAS In the evening of this day they caught up with the ascetics. it all pretended to be meaningful and joyful and beautiful. Feverish dreams flickered from his enlarged eyes. princes hunting. whores offering themselves. practised meditation. He ate only once a day. And Siddhartha's soul returned. spoke the heron's croak. Siddhartha exposed himself to burning rays of the sun directly above. 7 Siddhartha gave his garments to a poor Brahman in the street. once every desire and every urge was silent in the heart. until they were quiet. tiredness. according to a new Samana rules. to calm the beat of his heart. turned round in the cycle. was wood. and never something cooked. over freezing hips and legs. was dismembered by hyaenas. to be open to miracles in unselfish thoughts. overcame the thirst. until no blood flowed any more. he cowered in the thorny bushes. until he neither felt any pain nor thirst any more. empty of joy and sorrow. until they were only a few and almost none. to find tranquility with an emptied heard. He killed his senses. was the dead jackal. His glance turned to icy when he encountered women. Life was torture. until he could not feel the cold in his shoulders and legs any more. it all lied. until they were silent. lay on the banks. and the penitent stood there. until nothing burned any more. which is no longer my self. had tasted the gloomy intoxication of the cycle. thirst. He wore nothing more than the loincloth and the earth-coloured. A dead jackal was lying on the sandy bank. and Siddhartha stayed rigidly. and Siddhartha's soul slipped inside the body. empty of dreams. mourners wailing for their dead. through imagining the mind . ate fish. and awoke every time to find his old self again. he slipped out of his self into thousands of other forms. was blown across the fields. felt new thirst. empty of wishing. Siddhartha learned a lot when he was with the Samanas.

This is how it is. oh friend. It's true that a drinker numbs his senses. to beg for some food in the village for their brothers and teachers. you've learned every exercise. than the service and the exercises required. These and other ways he learned to go. when he found himself back in the sunshine or in the moonlight. One day. the same short numbing is what the driver of an ox-cart finds in the inn. When he falls asleep over his bowl of rice-wine." Quoth Govinda: "Siddhartha is putting me on. this I know. The same escape.Siddhartha 8 to be void of all conceptions. from salvation. it is a short escape of the agony of being a self. holding your breath. Then he won't feel his self any more. for hours and days he remained in the non-self. stayed in the animal. In every tavern of that part of a town where the whorehouses are. this. oh Govinda. we have already ascended many a level. oh Govinda. his shadow. "How do you think. By his side lived Govinda. Quickly. has gathered no enlightenment. in the shade or in the rain. Siddhartha. who have thought we were escaping the cycle?" Quoth Govinda: "We have learned a lot. find only a short numbing of the senses in my exercises and meditations and that I am just as far removed from wisdom. and was once again his self and Siddhartha. How could you have learned meditation. it's true that he briefly escapes and rests. it is a short numbing of the senses against the pain and the pointlessness of life. we are moving up.we. in the stone. might we be on the right path? Might we get closer to enlightenment? Might we get closer to salvation? Or do we perhaps live in a circle-. he'll find the same what Siddhartha and Govinda find when they escape their bodies through long exercises. up to this day. has not become wiser. but he'll return from the delusion. "how do you think did we progress? Did we reach any goals?" Govinda answered: "We have learned. Though Siddhartha fled from the self a thousand times. my friend. Siddhartha. oh Govinda." Quoth Govinda: "You say so. inescapable was the hour. I've never been a drunkard. being among the Samanas. But that I. when Siddhartha left the forest together with Govinda." . I could have learned more quickly and by simpler means. to beg for food for themselves and their teachers. and again felt the agony of the cycle which had been forced upon him.--has not risen several steps. you'll be a holy man. a thousand times he left his self." And Siddhartha spoke with a smile: "I do not know. undertook the same efforts. then he finds a short numbing of the senses. another time. You'll be a great Samana. often the old Samanas have admired you. oh Siddhartha. as a child in the mother's womb. staying in the non-self. there is still much to learn. Siddhartha began to speak and said: "What now. stayed in nothingness. But though the ways led away from the self. their end nevertheless always led back to the self. and yet you know that Siddhartha is no driver of an ox-cart and a Samana is no drunkard." Siddhartha spoke one day while begging this way. finds everything to be unchanged. Govinda. Occasionally the two of them went through the villages. and we'll continue learning. What I've learned. my friend." Quoth Siddhartha: "I can't help but feel that it is not like this. as if he was talking to himself: "What is meditation? What is leaving one's body? What is fasting? What is holding one's breath? It is fleeing from the self. drinking a few bowls of rice-wine or fermented coconut-milk. We are not going around in circles. among carters and gamblers I could have learned it. walked the same paths. the return was inevitable. They rarely spoke to one another. Siddhartha." And once again. oh Govinda. then he won't feel the pains of life any more. this I know. the circle is a spiral. insensitivity against hunger and pain there among these wretched people?" And Siddhartha said quietly.

with a quiet. what of the venerability of the Brahmans' caste. the Buddha. the path of paths. and spoke: "If you. I believe out of all the Samanas out there. At one time. Siddhartha! How could it be that among so many learned men. if I had asked the hornbill-bird or the chimpanzee." At this. the exalted one. loses himself in the meditation of Atman. year after year. we learn feats. in the yellow cloak of an ascetic. he has walked along your side for so long. and will meditate. Gotama by name. oh Govinda." "If you only. a myth reached them after being retold many times: A man had appeared. we will grow just as old and will do our exercises. year after year. what is venerable on earth?!" And Govinda mumbled a verse to himself. year after year. we find numbness. of a purified spirit. I'm suffering of thirst. so many holy men. no one will find the path of paths?" 9 But Siddhartha said in a voice which contained just as much sadness as mockery. he thought. And just consider: what would become of the sanctity of prayer. it had been just as well. but with a cheerful brow. will reach the nirvana. when the two young men had lived among the Samanas for about three years and had shared their exercises. we will not find. And so I'm starting to believe that this knowledge has no worser enemy than the desire to know it. and Brahmans and princes would bow down before him and would become his students. But the most important thing. I have asked the Brahmans. what would remain of all that which seemed to us to be holy? What remains? What can stand the test? And he shook his head. without possession. teaching. only would not bother your friend with this kind of talk! Truly. what is precious. There is. He thought about the words which Govinda had said to him and thought the words through to their end. But Siddhartha remained silent. among so many Brahmans. had been just as smart and just as profitable. and I have asked the devote Samanas. he won't and we won't. as what we refer to as `learning'. without a wife. our venerable teacher?" Quoth Govinda: "Our oldest one might be about sixty years of age. oh my friend. to deceive others. among so many austere and venerable Samanas. a man of bliss. I always thirsted for knowledge." spoke Govinda. oh Siddhartha. he had overcome the suffering of the world in himself and had halted the cycle of rebirths. It took me a long time and am not finished learning this yet. We find comfort. and I have asked the holy Vedas. perhaps not a single one. a slightly sad. He was said to wander through the land. this is within me and within you and within every creature. some news. would you think. so many who are eagerly trying. so I believe. is our oldest Samana. oh Govinda." And Siddhartha: "He has lived for sixty years and has not reached the nirvana. But we will not reach the nirvana. my thirst has remained as strong as ever. this is everywhere. just one knowledge. if it was as you say. He'll turn seventy and eighty. Govinda. if there was no learning?! What. a verse from an Upanishad: He who ponderingly. Oh Govinda. Govinda stopped on the path. "wouldn't speak such terrible words. what would then become of all of this what is holy. oh Govinda: that there is nothing to be learned! There is indeed no such thing. I have always been full of questions. standing there with his head low. Siddhartha. a rumour. what of the holiness of the Samanas. among so many who are searching. your friend will leave the path of the Samanas. rose his hands. and will fast. Perhaps. not a single one. this is Atman.Siddhartha Siddhartha answered: "How old. unexpressable by words is his blissfulness of his heart. and you and me. Yes. and on this long path of a Samana. . surrounded by disciples. than learning. a slightly mocking voice: "Soon. you words stir up fear in my heart. without home.

But his enemies and disbelievers said. again and again. this Gotama was a vain seducer. and also Siddhartha. I am willing to listen to these teachings--though in my heart I believe that we've already tasted the best fruit of these teachings. I was in the village. He possessed. and knew neither exercises nor self-castigation. had spoken to the gods. he had reached the nirvana and never returned into the cycle. my faithful friend. The myth of Buddha sounded sweet. Verily. here a source seemed to spring forth. The scent of magic flowed from these reports. but many would get on their way as soon as possible. mild. many would believe. was never again submerged in the murky river of physical forms. every drop laden with hope. the name of Gotama. and thought to myself: If only I would too. I knew little of his heart. you've spoken well. he had performed miracles. and among the Brahmans' sons of the towns and villages every pilgrim and stranger was welcome. the young men listened up. Everywhere where the rumour of Buddha was heard. who has seen the Buddha with his own eyes and has heard him teach. and he had no high opinion of this Gotama. wouldn't we want to go there too and listen to the teachings from the Buddha's mouth?" Quoth Siddhartha: "Always. which are becoming a Samana. oh Govinda. Many wonderful and unbelievable things were reported of him. just like this this myth ran through the land. this rumour. and as such news would go through the land and everyone would talk about it. there was the son of a Brahman from Magadha. he would spent his days in luxury. whose word and breath was enough to heal everyone who had been infected with the pestilence. life was hard to bear--and behold. felt hope. in which his voice assumed a touch of sadness and a touch of mockery. the exalted one. Govinda would stay with the Samanas. that fragrant myth of Gotama. here and there. Siddhartha and me. he remembered his previous lives. everywhere in the lands of India. you've remembered correctly. when he brought news of him. slowly. felt a longing. comforting. you would not walk the path of the Samanas for much longer?" At this. Siddhartha! But have you not also developed a desire. I had thought. had overcome the devil. its fragrants rose up. drop by drop. and a Brahman invited me into his house. friend. if only we both would too. the Buddha. the wise man of the family of Sakya." . where the Buddha spreads his teachings. and in his house. a wise man. here a messenger seemed to call out.Siddhartha This myth. every drop laden with doubt. my dear. the Samanas. He had heard that this alleged Buddha used to be an ascetic before and had lived in the forest. which are brought to us by teachers. the highest enlightenment. so the believers said. Siddhartha laughed in his very own manner. the Brahmans spoke of it and in the forest. with good and with bad talk. So now you. a knowledgeable one. full of noble promises. the helper. and also Govinda. you've heard from me." Govinda spoke one day to his friend. to seek the wise man. After all. They rarely talked about it. the Sakyamuni. If you only remembered the other thing as well. But behold. Mock me if you like. this made my chest ache when I breathed. was without learning. Govinda. "Oh Siddhartha. the world was sick. want to take a new path and go there. and said: "Well. The myth had also reached the Samanas in the forest. live to see the hour when we will hear the teachings from the mouth of this perfected man! Speak. I had not known Govinda well enough. "Today. to hear these teachings? And have you not at one time said to me. 10 It was as if the plague had broken out in a country and news had been spreading around that in one or another place there was a man. always I had believed his goal was to live to be sixty and seventy years of age and to keep on practising those feats and exercises. but had then turned back to luxury and worldly pleasures. many would doubt. an eagerness. because the oldest one of the Samanas did not like this myth. scorned the offerings. But let's do it. and that my faith in words. the Buddha reached the ears of the young men. this legend resounded. with praise and with defamation. is small." Quoth Govinda: "You're mocking me. which is that I have grown distrustful and tired against teachings and learning. in the towns.

the grove of Jetavana. how should this be possible? How should the Gotama's teachings. he captured the old man's glance with his glances. made him mute. went on their way with salutations. the old man made several bows." Positioning himself closely in front of the Samana. spoke stammeringly a godly wish for a good journey. with a concentrated soul. Siddhartha informed the oldest one of the Samanas of his decision. whatever he demanded him to do. and talked loudly and used crude swearwords. you have truly come to the right place. oh Govinda! But this fruit. It is hard. you have learned more from the Samanas than I knew. But Siddhartha put his mouth close to Govinda's ear and whispered to him: "Now. And arriving at Savathi. and they accepted the food. an obedient worshipper of the exalted one. which the rich merchant Anathapindika. food has been offered to them. oh friend. if you had stayed there." Quoth the woman: "Here. and every house was prepared to fill the alms-dish of Gotama's disciples. which we already now received thanks to the Gotama. let us await with calm hearts. have already revealed their best fruit to us?" Quoth Siddhartha: "Let us eat this fruit and wait for the rest. that he wanted to leave him. You should know. All tales and answers. returned the wish. performed gestures of blessing. it is very hard to cast a spell on an old Samana. in Jetavana. the most venerable one. Truly. deprived him of his power. who flock here. oh charitable one." said Siddhartha. his will was paralysed. But tell me. commanded him. which the two young ascetics had received in their search for Gotama's abode. The old man became mute. "Let old Samanas be content with such feats!" GOTAMA In the town of Savathi. On the way. every child knew the name of the exalted Buddha. for there is enough space for the innumerable. because the two young men wanted to leave him. what they commanded. you would soon have learned to walk on water. he had to carry out. the silently begging ones. had pointed them towards this area. without power. There you pilgrims shall spent the night. Govinda said: "Oh Siddhartha." . had given him and his people for a gift. Govinda was startled and became embarrassed. in the very first house. Near the town was Gotama's favourite place to stay. to hear the teachings from his mouth. I want to show the old man that I've learned something from him. But the Samana became angry. to see him. his arms were hanging down. the perfected one. and Siddhartha asked the woman. in the garden of Anathapindika is where the exalted one dwells. to do silently. He informed the oldest one with all the courtesy and modesty becoming to a younger one and a student. And the young men returned the bows with thanks. subdued him under his own will. you Samanas from the forest." "I do not seek to walk on water. who handed them the food: "We would like to know. took away his free will. he had fallen victim to Siddhartha's spell. and to hear the teachings from his mouth. for we are two Samanas from the forest and have come.Siddhartha 11 Quoth Govinda: "Your willingness delights my heart. where the Buddha dwells. consisted in him calling us away from the Samanas! Whether he has also other and better things to give us. his eyes became motionless." On this very same day. before the door of which they stopped to beg. And thus. But Siddhartha's thoughts brought the Samana under their control. even before we have heard them.

full of people. his quietly dangling hand. under the trees they sat here and there. monks walked in yellow robes. and it seemed to him as if every joint of every finger of this hand was of these teachings. The two Samanas. to collect food in town for their lunch. but he had. exhaled the fragrant of. They both followed the Buddha until they reached the town and then returned in silence. to collect alms. they saw with astonishment what a large crowd of believers and curious people had spent the night here. no effort to be seen. accustomed to life in the forest. an untouchable peace. And since they reached it at night. his shoulders.Siddhartha 12 This made Govinda happy. in an unwhithering light. for they themselves . bustling like bees. and full of joy he exclaimed: "Well so. On all paths of the marvellous grove. wore the robe and placed his feet just as all of his monks did. glistened of truth. But Siddhartha urged him to walk on. He felt little curiosity for the teachings. for rather many pilgrims and monks as well from Gotama's community were on their way to the Jetavana. "Look here!" Siddhartha said quietly to Govinda. breathed softly in an unwhithering calm. as if a god had pointed him out to him. heard the contents of this Buddha's teachings again and again. calm. do you know him. This man was holy. bearing the alms-dish in his hand. This man. no imitation. On many days. breathed of. With a hidden smile. did not imitate. the shady gardens looked like a city." Delightedly. his calm face was neither happy nor sad. a simple man in a yellow robe. leaving with a filled dish. his quietly lowered glance. "This one is the Buddha. we'll hear the teachings from his mouth. Govinda also realized: This is the one. in which there was no searching. did not search. the exalted one. spoke of. walking through the alleys in silence. shouts. somewhat resembling a healthy child. this Buddha was truthful down to the gesture of his last finger. found quickly and without making any noise a place to stay and rested there until the morning. the enlightened one. who seemed to be in no way different from the hundreds of other monks. the only meal of the day." Attentively. thus we have reached our destination. have you seen him with your own eyes?" Quoth the woman: "Many times I have seen him. modestly and deep in his thoughts. I have seen him.or third-hand information. though these reports only represented second. by the quietness of his appearance. only light and peace. The majority of the monks went out with their alms-dish. according to a precise rule. oh mother of the pilgrims. and our path has come to an end! But tell us. Govinda looked at the monk in the yellow robe. walking silently. and talk of those who sought shelter and got it. was also in the habit of taking this walk to beg in the morning. At sunrise. Govinda listened and wanted to ask and hear much more. The Buddha went on his way. his feet." said Govinda. expressed perfection. He saw him. Siddhartha did not answer. presenting his alms-dish in silence at the doors of the houses. no desire. The Buddha himself. They thanked and left and hardly had to ask for directions. Siddhartha had venerated a person so much. wearing his yellow cloak. there were constant arrivals. in deep contemplation--or in a conversation about spiritual matters. just as Govinda had. he did not believe that they would teach him anything new. his quietly dangling hand and even every finger of his quietly dangling hand expressed peace. Siddhartha saw him. Never before. But his face and his walk. and the two Samanas recognised him solely by the perfection of his calm. But attentively he looked at Gotama's head. And they followed him and observed him. the Buddha. it seemed to smile quietly and inwardly. and he instantly recognised him. "Today. quiet. And soon. the Buddha walked. Thus Gotama walked towards the town. never before he had loved a person as much as this one.

renounced your birth and possessions. and he started to weep. when the heat cooled down and everyone in the camp started to bustle about and gathered around. Suffering was life. like a light. And over and over again. they heard the Buddha teaching. When the Buddha--night had already fallen--ended his speech. my learned friend. he should tell him why he would not want to seek refuge in Gotama's teachings. and they saw him retiring into the shade of the mango-trees. Govinda urged his friend. Govinda! Very good are the teachings of the exalted one. the shy one. that you shall find salvation!" In this moment. I'm repeating it: I wish that you would go this path up to its end. taught the four main doctrines. And Gotama accepted them by speaking: "You have heard the teachings well. Then he spoke quietly. that you also. Siddhartha kindly spoke to him: "Don't forget. he has taken refuge in it. of the examples. like a starry sky. also stepped forward and spoke: "I also take my refuge in the exalted one and his teachings. for a long time. renounced your free will." and he asked to accepted into the community of his disciples and was accepted. not completely understanding it yet. oh Govinda. don't you also want to walk the path of salvation? Would you want to hesitate. Often I have thought: Won't Govinda for once also take a step by himself. without me. repeated his question in an impatient tone: "Speak up. taught the eightfold path. We have both heard the exalted one. was full of peace. he looked into Govinda's face. oh Govinda. Always. of the repetitions.Siddhartha 13 intended to abstain from on this day. Calmly and clearly his quiet speech flowed on. This is what you wanted for yourself. oh my friend. Govinda realized that his friend had left him. to put an end to all suffering. out of his own soul? Behold. renounced all friendship. my dear! Tell me. in a voice without mockery: "Govinda. when the Buddha had retired for the night. Right afterwards. They saw Gotama returning--what he ate could not even have satisfied a bird's appetite. since it could not be any other way. oh Govinda. With a soft. But you. Govinda turned to Siddhartha and spoke eagerly: "Siddhartha. now you have taken this step. you've always walked one step behind me. brightly and quietly his voice hovered over the listeners. but salvation from suffering had been found: salvation was obtained by him who would walk the path of the Buddha. then Govinda. they lay there and found no sleep. this is what the exalted one wants. patiently he went the usual path of the teachings. you've been my friend. of the origin of suffering. of the way to relieve suffering. Thus join us and walk in holiness. This is what the teachings require. Tomorrow. will take your refuge with the exalted Buddha!" Siddhartha placed his hand on Govinda's shoulder: "You failed to hear my good wish for you. Govinda. I wish that you would go it up to its end. now you have chosen this path. that you are now one of the Samanas of the Buddha! You have renounced your home and your parents. Gotama taught the teachings of suffering. do you want to wait any longer?" Siddhartha awakened as if he had been asleep. now you've turned into a man and are choosing your path for yourself. full of suffering was the world. was of perfect calmness. my honoured friend. that you shall find salvation!" Govinda. sought refuge in the teachings. many a pilgrim stepped forward and asked to accepted into the community. I'll leave you. how could I find a fault . For a long tome. But in the evening. when he heard Govinda's words." For a long time. the friends continued walking in the grove. it is not my place to scold you. my friend. it has come to you well. Govinda has heard the teachings. yet firm voice the exalted one spoke. what fault he would find in these teachings." Behold. They heard his voice. "Siddhartha!" he exclaimed lamentingly. I beg you. But Siddhartha turned him away every time and said: "Be content. and it was also perfected. be have both perceived the teachings.

" Siddhartha continued. But the teachings. unmoved. and good for you that you've thought about it thus deeply." Quietly. oh son of a Brahman. Everything in your teachings is perfectly clear. Please forgive me for expressing this objection." said the young man. smart or foolish. the Buddha nodded his approval. and when he greeted him with respect and the Buddha's glance was so full of kindness and calm. But I will again start on my pilgrimage. not depending on chance. would not be angry with me. and their goal is not to explain the world to those who seek knowledge. is proven. embraced once again his childhood friend and left with the novices. everyone can support them or discard them. this has been seen so clearly. the exalted one. possibly this is not essential--but the uniformity of the world. lost in thought." "As you please. this is what shines brightly out of your exalted teachings. they may be beautiful or ugly. are no opinion. You've found a gap in it. a chain which is never and nowhere broken." "I wish that you. Then he happened to meet Gotama. with his polite and clear voice: "You've heard the teachings. that everything which happens is connected. an eternal chain the links of which are causes and effects. went through the garden and called all those to him who had as novices taken their refuge in the teachings. once he has seen the world through your teachings perfectly connected. he has taken his refuge with you. oh perfected one. never before. But with this small gap. you've heard from me. But according to your very own teachings. nothing else. But be warned. of coming into being and of dying. something new. Never before. Silently the exalted one nodded his approval. Then Govinda broke loose. to argue about words. I had come from afar. this has been presented so irrefutably. Quoth Siddhartha: "One thing. something which had not been there before. oh seeker of knowledge. I do not wish to discuss. Now he spoke. oh exalted one. the entire eternal and uniform law of the world is breaking apart again and becomes void. "I have not spoken to you like this to argue with you. to dress them up in the yellow robe and to instruct them in the first teachings and duties of their position. Does it please the venerable one to listen to me for one moment longer?" Silently. Together with my friend. an error. Gotama had listened to him. truly. without gaps. a follower of Buddha. you are presenting the world as a perfect chain. one of his oldest monks. "but I do not want to leave the exalted one without having honestly told him my thoughts. with his kind. of salvation. their goal is salvation from suffering. Whether it may be good or bad. But let me say . the heart of every Brahman has to beat stronger with love." the venerable one spoke politely. through a small gap. You should think about this further. with this small breach. But Siddhartha walked through the grove. and which cannot be demonstrated and cannot be proven: these are your teachings of overcoming the world. to hear your teachings. the young man summoned his courage and asked the venerable one for the permission to talk to him. whether living according to it would be suffering or joy. this world of unity is invaded by something alien. And now my friend is going to stay with your people. oh exalted one. I had been privileged to hear your wondrous teachings. I have admired in your teachings most of all. clear as a crystal. They have a different goal. This is what Gotama teaches.Siddhartha in them?" 14 Very early in the morning. There is nothing to opinions. not depending on gods. "Too bold is my speech. there is little to opinions. You are truly right. the perfected one. of the thicket of opinions and of arguing about words. this unity and necessary sequence of all things is nevertheless broken in one place. oh most venerable one. Quoth Siddhartha: "Yesterday. by the same law of causes. that the great and the small things are all encompassed by the same forces of time.

through realizations. thought Siddhartha. Only for myself. oh Samana. through meditation. do you believe that it would be better for them all the abandon the teachings and to return into the life the world and of desires?" "Far is such a thought from my mind. oh exalted one. when my eyes beheld a holy man. This is what I have thought and realized. He has deprived me of my friend. and his glance and half of a smile remained forever etched in Siddhartha's memory. that you shall reach the goal! But tell me: Have you seen the multitude of my Samanas. "that your thoughts shall not be in error. to avoid evil. I'd fear that it might happen to me that only seemingly. . before whom I would have to lower my glance. who had been my shadow and is now Gotama's shadow. You have found salvation from death. truly. it teaches many to live righteously. and the community of the monks!" With half of a smile. through enlightenment. my love for you. It has not come to you by means of teachings! And--thus is my thought. since this man's teachings have not enticed me. in words and through teachings what has happened to you in the hour of enlightenment! The teachings of the enlightened Buddha contain much. I am deprived by the Buddha. "You are wise. but that in truth it would live on and grow. not before any other. oh exalted one. oh venerable one. Truly. only a person who has succeeded in reaching the innermost part of his self would glance and walk this way. But often. that you have reached the goal. and even more he has given to me. thus child-like and mysterious. through thoughts.--nobody will obtain salvation by means of teachings! You will not be able to convey and say to anybody. I also will seek to reach the innermost part of my self. for I know there are none." the venerable one spoke slowly. No teachings will entice me any more. This is why I am continuing my travels--not to seek other. a single man. oh venerable one. Well so. I must chose. only deceptively my self would be calm and be redeemed. oh exalted one. "I wish that they shall all stay with the teachings. I am deprived. I must decide. with an unwavering openness and kindness. the one who had believed in me and now believes in him. Gotama looked into the stranger's eyes and bid him to leave with a hardly noticeable gesture. But there is one thing which these so clear. I must refuse. my friend. Siddhartha thought. the highest goal towards which so many thousands of Brahmans and sons of Brahmans are on their way. when I have heard the teachings.Siddhartha 15 this one more thing: I have not doubted in you for a single moment. Be aware of too much wisdom!" The Buddha turned away. my many brothers. who have taken refuge in the teachings? And do you believe. But he has given me Siddhartha. for myself alone. "I wish. I'll think of this day. I wish to be able to glance and smile. on your own path."." The Buddha's eyes quietly looked to the ground. but to depart from all teachings and all teachers and to reach my goal by myself or to die. I have not doubted for a single moment that you are Buddha. sit and walk this way. Salvation from the self is what we Samanas search for. thus venerable. sit and walk this way. he thought. myself. I have never before seen a person glance and smile. and of this hour. for then I had replaced my self with the teachings. It has come to you in the course of your own search. thus open. thus free. better teachings. I do not want to lower my glance before any other. I saw a man. he alone among hundreds of thousands. oh stranger. these so venerable teachings do not contain: they do not contain the mystery of what the exalted one has experienced for himself. that they shall reach their goal! It is not my place to judge another person's life. oh Samana. If I merely were one of your disciples. "You know how to talk wisely. my duty to follow you. the venerable one spoke." exclaimed Siddhartha. in perfect equanimity his inscrutable face was smiling. thus concealed. too. quietly.

. here was yellow. and if also in the blue and the river. were still unable to teach you?" And he found: "It was the self. And it was not long before he walked again. river and forest. Truly. is the very essence of thinking. as he was slowly walking along. of me being one and being separated and isolated from all others. that Siddhartha has remained thus alien and unknown to me. who have taught you much. as a snake is left by its old skin. It was the self. who seeks unity. he walked along in his thoughts and asked himself: "But what is this. this mystery of me being alive. the ultimate part. Slower. nor any kind of teachings. the singular and divine lived hidden. of me being Siddhartha! And there is no thing in this world I know less about than about me. the secret of Siddhartha. All of this. as this my very own self. river was river. could only flee from it." he thought. the highest and wisest teacher. in Siddhartha. I wanted to free myself from. Buddha. walked quickly like a man who knows what he has got to do. to find the core of all peels in its unknown interior. where Govinda stayed behind. which I sought to overcome. He pondered about this sensation. the perfected one. which had accompanied him throughout his youth and used to be a part of him: the wish to have teachers and to listen to teachings. nor the ascetics. nor Atharva-Veda. I was willing to to dissect my self and peel off all of its layers. here was green." He looked around. want to get to know myself. so it seemed to him. and right away another thought sprang forth from these. which filled him completely. about Siddhartha!" Having been pondering while slowly walking along. he had left him. had to part with him. He pondered deeply. entered Siddhartha for the first time through the eyes. "now I would not let Siddhartha escape from me again! No longer. was not able to accept his teachings. who scorns diversity. and what they. even him. was no longer a pointless and coincidental diversity of mere appearances. down to the place where the causes lie. strange and mysterious was the world! Here was blue. Slowly walking along. as if he was seeing the world for the first time. the forest and the mountains were rigid. all of it was beautiful. "Oh. want to be my student. like diving into a deep water he let himself sink down to the ground of the sensation. what you have sought to learn from teachings and from teachers. He realized that one thing had left him. despicable to the deeply thinking Brahman. Siddhartha pondered." Siddhartha opened his eyes and looked around. but had turned into a man. the purpose and essence of which I sought to learn. stems from one cause. I want to learn from myself. that one thing no longer existed in him. Beautiful was the world. I searched Brahman. was no longer a spell of Mara. all of it was mysterious and magical. He had also left the last teacher who had appeared on his path. all this yellow and blue. the Atman. then he felt that in this grove his past life also stayed behind and parted from him. because to identify the causes. taking a deep breath. only hide from it. was no longer the veil of Maya. on the path to himself. the awakening one. colourful was the world. the most holy one. I was fleeing from myself! I searched Atman. But I have lost myself in the process. but become entities and start to emit like rays of light what is inside of them. Siddhartha. the sky and the river flowed. could only deceive it. Neither Yoga-Veda shall teach me any more. Blue was blue. he now stopped as these thoughts caught hold of him. no thing in this world has kept my thoughts thus busy. a smile filled his face and a feeling of awakening from long dreams flowed through him from his head down to his toes.Siddhartha AWAKENING 16 When Siddhartha left the grove. I do not want to kill and dissect myself any longer. stayed behind. I want to begin my thoughts and my life with Atman and with the suffering of the world. the divine part. But I was not able to overcome it. a single cause: I was afraid of myself. which was: "That I know nothing about myself. and by this alone sensations turn into realizations and are not lost. He realized that he was no youth any more. to find a secret behind the ruins. where the Buddha. life. a new thought. and in its midst was he.



so it was still that very divinity's way and purpose, to be here yellow, here blue, there sky, there forest, and here Siddhartha. The purpose and the essential properties were not somewhere behind the things, they were in them, in everything. "How deaf and stupid have I been!" he thought, walking swiftly along. "When someone reads a text, wants to discover its meaning, he will not scorn the symbols and letters and call them deceptions, coincidence, and worthless hull, but he will read them, he will study and love them, letter by letter. But I, who wanted to read the book of the world and the book of my own being, I have, for the sake of a meaning I had anticipated before I read, scorned the symbols and letters, I called the visible world a deception, called my eyes and my tongue coincidental and worthless forms without substance. No, this is over, I have awakened, I have indeed awakened and have not been born before this very day." In thinking this thoughts, Siddhartha stopped once again, suddenly, as if there was a snake lying in front of him on the path. Because suddenly, he had also become aware of this: He, who was indeed like someone who had just woken up or like a new-born baby, he had to start his life anew and start again at the very beginning. When he had left in this very morning from the grove Jetavana, the grove of that exalted one, already awakening, already on the path towards himself, he he had every intention, regarded as natural and took for granted, that he, after years as an ascetic, would return to his home and his father. But now, only in this moment, when he stopped as if a snake was lying on his path, he also awoke to this realization: "But I am no longer the one I was, I am no ascetic any more, I am not a priest any more, I am no Brahman any more. Whatever should I do at home and at my father's place? Study? Make offerings? Practise meditation? But all this is over, all of this is no longer alongside my path." Motionless, Siddhartha remained standing there, and for the time of one moment and breath, his heart felt cold, he felt a cold in his chest, as a small animal, a bird or a rabbit, would when seeing how alone he was. For many years, he had been without home and had felt nothing. Now, he felt it. Still, even in the deepest meditation, he had been his father's son, had been a Brahman, of a high caste, a cleric. Now, he was nothing but Siddhartha, the awoken one, nothing else was left. Deeply, he inhaled, and for a moment, he felt cold and shivered. Nobody was thus alone as he was. There was no nobleman who did not belong to the noblemen, no worker that did not belong to the workers, and found refuge with them, shared their life, spoke their language. No Brahman, who would not be regarded as Brahmans and lived with them, no ascetic who would not find his refuge in the caste of the Samanas, and even the most forlorn hermit in the forest was not just one and alone, he was also surrounded by a place he belonged to, he also belonged to a caste, in which he was at home. Govinda had become a monk, and a thousand monks were his brothers, wore the same robe as he, believed in his faith, spoke his language. But he, Siddhartha, where did he belong to? With whom would he share his life? Whose language would he speak? Out of this moment, when the world melted away all around him, when he stood alone like a star in the sky, out of this moment of a cold and despair, Siddhartha emerged, more a self than before, more firmly concentrated. He felt: This had been the last tremor of the awakening, the last struggle of this birth. And it was not long until he walked again in long strides, started to proceed swiftly and impatiently, heading no longer for home, no longer to his father, no longer back. SECOND PART Dedicated to Wilhelm Gundert, my cousin in Japan KAMALA



Siddhartha learned something new on every step of his path, for the world was transformed, and his heart was enchanted. He saw the sun rising over the mountains with their forests and setting over the distant beach with its palm-trees. At night, he saw the stars in the sky in their fixed positions and the crescent of the moon floating like a boat in the blue. He saw trees, stars, animals, clouds, rainbows, rocks, herbs, flowers, stream and river, the glistening dew in the bushes in the morning, distant hight mountains which were blue and pale, birds sang and bees, wind silverishly blew through the rice-field. All of this, a thousand-fold and colourful, had always been there, always the sun and the moon had shone, always rivers had roared and bees had buzzed, but in former times all of this had been nothing more to Siddhartha than a fleeting, deceptive veil before his eyes, looked upon in distrust, destined to be penetrated and destroyed by thought, since it was not the essential existence, since this essence lay beyond, on the other side of, the visible. But now, his liberated eyes stayed on this side, he saw and became aware of the visible, sought to be at home in this world, did not search for the true essence, did not aim at a world beyond. Beautiful was this world, looking at it thus, without searching, thus simply, thus childlike. Beautiful were the moon and the stars, beautiful was the stream and the banks, the forest and the rocks, the goat and the gold-beetle, the flower and the butterfly. Beautiful and lovely it was, thus to walk through the world, thus childlike, thus awoken, thus open to what is near, thus without distrust. Differently the sun burnt the head, differently the shade of the forest cooled him down, differently the stream and the cistern, the pumpkin and the banana tasted. Short were the days, short the nights, every hour sped swiftly away like a sail on the sea, and under the sail was a ship full of treasures, full of joy. Siddhartha saw a group of apes moving through the high canopy of the forest, high in the branches, and heard their savage, greedy song. Siddhartha saw a male sheep following a female one and mating with her. In a lake of reeds, he saw the pike hungrily hunting for its dinner; propelling themselves away from it, in fear, wiggling and sparkling, the young fish jumped in droves out of the water; the scent of strength and passion came forcefully out of the hasty eddies of the water, which the pike stirred up, impetuously hunting. All of this had always existed, and he had not seen it; he had not been with it. Now he was with it, he was part of it. Light and shadow ran through his eyes, stars and moon ran through his heart. On the way, Siddhartha also remembered everything he had experienced in the Garden Jetavana, the teaching he had heard there, the divine Buddha, the farewell from Govinda, the conversation with the exalted one. Again he remembered his own words, he had spoken to the exalted one, every word, and with astonishment he became aware of the fact that there he had said things which he had not really known yet at this time. What he had said to Gotama: his, the Buddha's, treasure and secret was not the teachings, but the unexpressable and not teachable, which he had experienced in the hour of his enlightenment--it was nothing but this very thing which he had now gone to experience, what he now began to experience. Now, he had to experience his self. It is true that he had already known for a long time that his self was Atman, in its essence bearing the same eternal characteristics as Brahman. But never, he had really found this self, because he had wanted to capture it in the net of thought. With the body definitely not being the self, and not the spectacle of the senses, so it also was not the thought, not the rational mind, not the learned wisdom, not the learned ability to draw conclusions and to develop previous thoughts in to new ones. No, this world of thought was also still on this side, and nothing could be achieved by killing the random self of the senses, if the random self of thoughts and learned knowledge was fattened on the other hand. Both, the thoughts as well as the senses, were pretty things, the ultimate meaning was hidden behind both of them, both had to be listened to, both had to be played with, both neither had to be scorned nor overestimated, from both the secret voices of the innermost truth had to be attentively perceived. He wanted to strive for nothing, except for what the voice commanded him to strive for, dwell on nothing, except where the voice would advise him to do so. Why had Gotama, at that time, in the hour of all hours, sat down under the bo-tree, where the enlightenment hit him? He had heard a voice, a voice in his own heart, which had commanded him to seek rest under this tree, and he had neither preferred self-castigation, offerings, ablutions, nor prayer, neither food nor drink, neither sleep nor dream, he had obeyed the voice. To obey like this, not to an external command, only to the voice, to be ready like this, this was good, this was necessary, nothing else was necessary. In the night when he slept in the straw hut of a ferryman by the river, Siddhartha had a dream: Govinda was



standing in front of him, dressed in the yellow robe of an ascetic. Sad was how Govinda looked like, sadly he asked: Why have you forsaken me? At this, he embraced Govinda, wrapped his arms around him, and as he was pulling him close to his chest and kissed him, it was not Govinda any more, but a woman, and a full breast popped out of the woman's dress, at which Siddhartha lay and drank, sweetly and strongly tasted the milk from this breast. It tasted of woman and man, of sun and forest, of animal and flower, of every fruit, of every joyful desire. It intoxicated him and rendered him unconscious.--When Siddhartha woke up, the pale river shimmered through the door of the hut, and in the forest, a dark call of an owl resounded deeply and pleasantly. When the day began, Siddhartha asked his host, the ferryman, to get him across the river. The ferryman got him across the river on his bamboo-raft, the wide water shimmered reddishly in the light of the morning. "This is a beautiful river," he said to his companion. "Yes," said the ferryman, "a very beautiful river, I love it more than anything. Often I have listened to it, often I have looked into its eyes, and always I have learned from it. Much can be learned from a river." "I than you, my benefactor," spoke Siddhartha, disembarking on the other side of the river. "I have no gift I could give you for your hospitality, my dear, and also no payment for your work. I am a man without a home, a son of a Brahman and a Samana." "I did see it," spoke the ferryman, "and I haven't expected any payment from you and no gift which would be the custom for guests to bear. You will give me the gift another time." "Do you think so?" asked Siddhartha amusedly. "Surely. This too, I have learned from the river: everything is coming back! You too, Samana, will come back. Now farewell! Let your friendship be my reward. Commemorate me, when you'll make offerings to the gods." Smiling, they parted. Smiling, Siddhartha was happy about the friendship and the kindness of the ferryman. "He is like Govinda," he thought with a smile, "all I meet on my path are like Govinda. All are thankful, though they are the ones who would have a right to receive thanks. All are submissive, all would like to be friends, like to obey, think little. Like children are all people." At about noon, he came through a village. In front of the mud cottages, children were rolling about in the street, were playing with pumpkin-seeds and sea-shells, screamed and wrestled, but they all timidly fled from the unknown Samana. In the end of the village, the path led through a stream, and by the side of the stream, a young woman was kneeling and washing clothes. When Siddhartha greeted her, she lifted her head and looked up to him with a smile, so that he saw the white in her eyes glistening. He called out a blessing to her, as it is the custom among travellers, and asked how far he still had to go to reach the large city. Then she got up and came to him, beautifully her wet mouth was shimmering in her young face. She exchanged humorous banter with him, asked whether he had eaten already, and whether it was true that the Samanas slept alone in the forest at night and were not allowed to have any women with them. While talking, she put her left foot on his right one and made a movement as a woman does who would want to initiate that kind of sexual pleasure with a man, which the textbooks call "climbing a tree". Siddhartha felt his blood heating up, and since in this moment he had to think of his dream again, he bend slightly down to the woman and kissed with his lips the brown nipple of her breast. Looking up, he saw her face smiling full of lust and her eyes, with contracted pupils, begging with desire. Siddhartha also felt desire and felt the source of his sexuality moving; but since he had never touched a woman before, he hesitated for a moment, while his hands were already prepared to reach out for her. And in this moment he heard, shuddering with awe, the voice if his innermost self, and this voice said No. Then, all

Now he had a goal. and left him alone with her. turned away from her and disappeared away from the disappointed woman with light steps into the bamboo-wood. I will not be able to enter the grove like this. he reached the large city before the evening. Thus I am entering this city. Before the city. with a charming omen. Pursuing his goal. he saw a very fair. a clear. but he thought about it. he did not know. the servant returned. I must not remain like this. comb his hair and anoint it with fine oil. when the sedan-chair came closer. the baskets. he entered the city. on red pillows under a colourful canopy. a brightly red mouth. and early in the morning. before the first customers came into his shop. how distrustful. He bowed deeply. with wide golden bracelets over the wrists. where Kamala was lying on a couch. With a smile.Siddhartha 20 charms disappeared from the young woman's smiling face. I am still an ascetic and beggar. she owned a house in the city. and only now he became aware of how the servants and maids had looked at him at the entrance. sat a woman. whom he told about stories of Vishnu and the Lakshmi. charming face. Then he went to take his bath in the river. Under black hair. and was happy. in which he had slept that night. eyebrows which were well tended and painted in a high arch. for he felt the need to be among people. he thought. how despicable. asked him. Siddhartha saw how beautiful she was. drifted through the flow of the streets. After a while. the mistress. For a long time. and the straw hut of the ferryman. and was told that this was the grove of Kamala. and straightening up again. he had lived in the forests. "Weren't you already standing out there yesterday. Siddhartha was standing at the entrance. read for a moment in the smart eyes with the high arcs above. Among the boats by the river. But that servant who walked at the very end of her train he motioned to him and asked him to inform his mistress that a young Brahman would wish to talk to her. he made friends with barber's assistant. in a beautifully fenced grove. he looked at the fair. greeting me?" asked Kamala. Siddhartha stopped at the entrance to the pleasure-garden and watched the parade. the beautiful women nodded for a moment and disappeared into the grove. he slept this night. And he laughed. resting fair hands. and then the servant as well. saw the servants. When late in the afternoon. and his heart rejoiced. The next person who came along this path he asked about the grove and for the name of the woman. like a freshly cracked fig. carried by four servants in an ornamental sedan-chair. When the evening came. carrying baskets. he allowed the city to suck him in. He instantly felt drawn into the grove. had been the first roof for a long time he has had over his head. and that. he had the barber's assistant shave his beard and cut his hair. tall neck rising from a green and golden garment. Then. Politely. to follow him conducted him. both male and female. aside from the grove. On this day. smart and watchful dark eyes. In their midst. long and thin. he no longer saw anything else but the damp glance of a female animal in heat. he petted her cheek. the maids. stood still on the squares. Siddhartha thought. made a bow and received the courtesan's greeting. which made to tower high on her head. beautiful Kamala approached her grove in her sedan-chair. breathed in a slight fragrant. the famous courtesan. very smart face. whom he had seen working in the shade of an arch in a building. who had been waiting. rested on the stairs of stone by the river. saw the sedan-chair and saw the lady in it. how rejecting. who was following him. the traveller came across a small group of servants. I am still a Samana. . whom he found again praying in a temple of Vishnu. without a word into a pavilion. very delicate.

I have already taken off my beard. And now let's get to it: You aren't satisfied with Siddhartha as he is. they come in fine shoes. you have seen everything. And if it doesn't displease you. Kamala exclaimed: "No." Kamala smiled and played with her fan of peacocks' feathers.--But tell me. and long hair. Siddhartha has come to me?" "To tell you this and to thank you for being so beautiful." At this. who is coming from the jackals and doesn't even know yet what women are?" "Oh. He could hurt you. My mouth is red and fresh as well. he doesn't satisfy me yet. oh Kamala! You are the first woman whom Siddhartha is not addressing with his eyes turned to the ground. money in my pouch. And asked: "And only to tell me this. the son of a Brahman. and dust in your hair?" 21 "You have observed well. the Samana." Quoth Siddhartha: "Already I am starting to learn from you. "How should I not mark words which are coming from such a mouth! Your mouth is like a freshly cracked fig. Did any Samana or Brahman ever fear. and there are also sons of Brahmans among them. I have left that path and came into this city. and his depth of thought? No. Samana from the forest? Did you mark my words?" "Yes. I have come to you. without shoes. but without clothes. and shoes. which I have set for myself yesterday: to be your friend and to learn the joys of love from you! You'll see that I'll learn quickly. I am not afraid of this. Clothes are what he must have. Kamala. you'll see. and the first one I met. He could force you. with oil in his hair. and lots of money in his pouch. who has left his home to become a Samana. have combed the hair. Do you know it now. Siddhartha has set harder goals for himself than such trifles. I would like to ask you to be my friend and teacher. Even yesterday. a stupid Samana from the forest. He could kidnap you. it will be a suitable match for yours. have oil in my hair. for I know nothing yet of that art which you have mastered in the highest degree. my dear. he's strong. You have seen Siddhartha." "No. oh Samana. fine shoes." Siddhartha exclaimed. "Never before this has happened to me. how the young men are like who come to me. You shall know. that a Samana from the forest came to me and wanted to learn from me! Never before this has happened to me. someone might come and grab him and steal his learning. How shouldn't I reach that goal. for they are his very own. my friend. I have marked your words. that a Samana came to me with long hair and an old. . when I'm coming across a beautiful woman. I was already learning. aren't you at all afraid of the Samana from the forest. was you. but they come in beautiful clothes. even before I had entered the city. beautiful Kamala. I have already learned harder things than what you're supposed to teach me. There is little which is still missing in me." "But didn't you yesterday wear a beard. beautiful girl. oh excellent one: fine clothes. and gifts for Kamala. But now. and who has been a Samana for three years. and he isn't afraid of anything. Never again I want to turn my eyes to the ground. Kamala laughed aloud. pretty clothes. Samana. who has come to learn how to make love?" "Whatever for should I be afraid of a Samana. Kamala. without money?" Laughing. This is.Siddhartha "It's true that I've already seen and greeted you yesterday. torn loin-cloth! Many young men come to me. To say this. and he has reached them. they have perfume in their hair and money in their pouches. Kamala. pretty shoes. and his religious devotion.

thus advise me where I should go to. you are so right! It would be such a great pity. No. he remained standing where he was. ignorant Samana. But it will be difficult for you to earn thus much money with verses as you need. he was still to receive. buying. couldn't you still give me one small advice?" "An advice? Why not? Who wouldn't like to give an advice to a poor. shoes. But yes. What might you be able to do?" "I can think. he tilted his head so that his face touched hers and placed his mouth on that mouth which was like a freshly cracked fig. many would like to know this. In this." exclaimed Kamala. if a pretty young man like you would want to tackle it in such a wrong manner. Bowed that man. but just try to kiss it against Kamala's will. "Beautiful are your verses. precisely like this it is also with Kamala and with the pleasures of love. You must do what you've learned and ask for money. but it cannot be stolen. I would give you pieces of gold for them. I can also write poetry. There is no other way for a poor man to obtain money. But speak. which knows how to give so many sweet things! You are learning easily. "It would be a pity. Like this it is." "Nothing else?" "Nothing. rejected him. and with a deep astonishment Siddhartha felt how she taught him. and you will not obtain a single drop of sweetness from it. that I'll find these three things most quickly?" "Friend. and shoes in return. lured him. you have come up with the wrong path. how she controlled him. how wise she was. if I'll like your poem. I can fast. finding it in the street. and was in this moment astonished like a child about the cornucopia of knowledge and things worth learning. nor you from mine! So it is settled: Siddhartha will return. More lovely is offering to pretty Kamala. everyone different from the others. who is coming from the jackals of the forest?" "Dear Kamala. these verses: Into her shady grove stepped the pretty Kamala. "if I was rich. after he had thought about it for a moment. receiving it as a gift. so that the golden bracelets clanged. seeing the lotus's blossom. than offerings for gods. and truly. I'm losing nothing when I'm giving you a kiss for them. thus you should also learn this: love can be obtained by begging. and smiling Kamala thanked. Kamala loudly clapped her hands. Siddhartha. Kamala kissed him. "Very beautiful are your verses. Deeply." She beckoned him with her eyes. which revealed itself before his eyes. well tested sequence of kisses. Would you like to give me a kiss for a poem?" "I would like to. money. if you want to be Kamala's friend. More lovely. lovely Kamala." Siddhartha bowed with a smile. once he'll have have what he still lacks: clothes. No. I can wait." . Beautiful and red is Kamala's mouth. thought the young man. What would be its title?" Siddhartha spoke. a well ordered. oh brown Samana. Breathing deeply. At the grove's entrance stood the brown Samana. Kamala. clothes.Siddhartha 22 and he would only give away from those whatever he is willing to give and to whomever he is willing to give. and how after this first one there was to be a long. For you need a lot of money. For a long time. it would be a pity. I shall not lose a single drop of sweetness from your mouth.

I will ask no one for food any more. I also can't do it. I need clothes and money. Without fully understanding what was happening to him. which Kamala is giving me." exclaimed Kamala. this I am able to do. "but I do not want to sing them any more. he thought." In this moment. Perhaps as soon as tomorrow. it was no longer becoming to him to beg. and when she found out that he had not eaten anything yesterday and today. "You're able to read? And write?" "Certainly." thought Siddhartha. being given upper garments as a gift. "Things are working out well. he did as he had been told. Siddhartha. he is the richest merchant of the city. He gave the rice-cake to a dog and remained without food. shoes. Now. I also know magic spells. "Simple is the life which people lead in this world here. and all beautiful things. I'll see you again. Siddhartha found himself being dragged away by the maid. brought into a garden-house avoiding the direct path. brown Samana. If he'll like you. Kamaswami is starting to get old and lazy. and urgently admonished to get himself out of the grove as soon as possible without being seen. 23 "Yes. you shall become his equal. therefore I do not lack clothes. easy like that lessons in kissing. It is very good that you're able to read and write. he'll entrust you with a lot." Siddhartha thanked her and laughed. You will also still find use for the magic spells. Kamala!" stammered Siddhartha. near goals. Many people can do this.Siddhartha "The way you're able to kiss. "You've been lucky. I had others tell him about you. this a small. But don't be too modest! I do not want you to become his servant. they won't make a person lose any sleep." But to the maid she gave the order to give the pious Brahman white upper garments. toilsome." said Siddhartha. he returned to the city." she said when they parted. I can do this. Suddenly." He had already discovered Kamala's house in the city long before. he is very powerful." she called out to him. he'll accept you into his service. Be polite towards him. "I'm opening one door after another for you. Be smart." "Most people can't. "There's a visitor for me." Kamala interrupted him. He was no Samana any more. fasting. If he'll like you. remember this! Tomorrow. without a word he accepted a piece of rice-cake. everything is easy. making poetry?" "I also know the sacrificial songs. bracelets. pride flared up in him. or else I won't be satisfied with you. nobody may see you in here. he managed to get out of the grove and over the hedge without making a sound. "They are expecting you at Kamaswami's. without words he asked for food. I have read the scriptures--" "Stop. led into the bushes. Being accustomed to the forest. but I do not want to speak them any more. where travellers stay. carrying the rolled up garments under his arm. But what will become of you? Aren't you able to do anything else but thinking. Contently. How come? Do you have a spell?" . he positioned himself by the door. "Hurry and get yourself away. there he turned up the following day. when I was still a Samana. very good. Everything was difficult. a maid came running in and whispered a message into her mistress's ear. she sent for bread and fruits and treated him to it. "It presents no difficulties. Contently. nothing else. At the inn. and ultimately hopeless.

The day before yesterday. "when I came to you into your grove. Look. But I am so voluntarily. if Kamala wasn't helping you?" "Dear Kamala. Surely. without doing anything. Might you have become destitute. without stirring. Kamala: When you throw a rock into the water. a resolution. From that moment on when I had made this resolution. that therefore good fortune is coming towards him. he is drawn. there are no daemons. at your first glance at the entrance of the grove I already knew it. because he doesn't let anything enter his soul which might oppose the goal." With one kiss. Everyone can perform magic. a swiftly. It was my resolution to learn love from this most beautiful woman. "as you say. it will speed on the fastest course to the bottom of the water. cautious eyes. "if this is what you mean. everyone can reach his goals." "Well yes. to wait. that my glance shall please you. smoothly moving man with very gray hair. she loved the look from his eyes. servants led him between precious carpets into a chamber. with a greedy mouth. I told you I knew how to think. how could you be anything but destitute? Aren't the Samanas entirely without possessions?" "I am without possessions. But it is useful for many things. but that you seek to be in the service of a merchant. "But where would you be without me? What would you be." the merchant began. Kamala." she said quietly." "If you're coming from the Samanas. This is how it is when Siddhartha has a goal. "that you were a Brahman. but you thought this was of no use.Siddhartha 24 Siddhartha said: "Yesterday. he was directed into a rich house. he lets himself fall. and to fast. I was still a shaggy beggar. You should know that I'm coming from the Samanas. "I have not become destitute and have never been destitute. he thinks. the host and the guest greeted one another. This is what fools call magic and of which they think it would be effected by means of the daemons. if he is able to think. you'll see." Kamala listened to him. that his glance pleases the women. Politely. and therefore I am not destitute. where he awaited the master of the house. I knew that you would help me. Siddhartha does nothing. but he passes through the things of the world like a rock through water." "But what if I hadn't been willing?" "You were willing. a learned man. he waits." she admitted. "Perhaps it is so. "I wish that it should be this way. "I have been told. friend. I also knew that I would carry it out. if he is able to wait. I did the first step. and soon I'll be a merchant and have money and all those things you insist upon. with very intelligent. But perhaps it is also like this: that Siddhartha is a handsome man." said Siddhartha. that always good fortune shall come to me out of your direction!" WITH THE CHILDLIKE PEOPLE Siddhartha went to Kamaswami the merchant. so that you seek to serve?" "No." ." said Siddhartha. I am without possessions. This is what Siddhartha has learned among the Samanas. You'll see that the stupid Samanas are learning and able to do many pretty things in the forest. Nothing is effected by daemons. he fasts. as soon as yesterday I have kissed Kamala. which the likes of you aren't capable of." said Siddhartha and straightened up to his full height. Kamaswami entered. His goal attracts him. if he is able to fast. with whom I have lived for a long time. Siddhartha bid his farewell. my teacher. She loved his voice. Brahman.

" "That's everything?" "I believe." the merchant praised him. and have never thought about of what I should live. the merchant gives merchandise." "You're right. what would you like to give?" "Everyone gives what he has. And what is it now what you've got to give? What is it that you've learned. he would give his merchandise in return. a merchant also lives of what other people own." "Presumable this is how it is." "Well said. The warrior gives strength. Everyone takes. on which a sales-contract had been written down. When a person has nothing to eat. being without possessions?" 25 "I haven't thought of this yet. being patient is better." "Yes indeed. everyone gives. the farmer rice. he would have to accept any kind of service before this day is up. This. I'm asking you to be my guest and to live in this house. he knows no impatience. is what fasting is good for. For more than three years." "It is excellent how you're able to write. fasting is the smartest thing he could do." Kamaswami left the room and returned with a scroll. sir. sir." said Kamaswami. that's everything!" "And what's the use of that? For example. "Many a thing we will still have to discuss with one another. But like this. But he wouldn't take anything from another person for nothing." "So you've lived of the possessions of others." "So it seems to be indeed.what is it good for?" "It is very good. he knows no emergency. After all. Kamaswami read: "Writing is good. For today. the fasting-. I can fast. what you're able to do?" "I can think. the fisher fish." "But if you don't mind me asking: being without possessions. such is life. Siddhartha hadn't learned to fast. for a long time he can allow hunger to besiege him and can laugh about it. When. I have been without possessions. thinking is better. Samana. and Siddhartha wrote and returned the paper. because hunger would force him to do so. and began to read out its contents. whether it may be with you or wherever. sir. which he handed to his guest while asking: "Can you read this?" Siddhartha looked at the scroll. Being smart is good. the teacher teachings. "Excellent. I can wait." .Siddhartha "But what are you planning to live of. Siddhartha can wait calmly. for example. "And would you write something for me on this piece of paper?" He handed him a piece of paper and a pen. Wait for a moment.

when he already took part in his landlords business. and soon he brought her gifts as well. but the contents of which did not touch his heart. smart mouth. when he made losses. the rice had already been sold to another merchant. so that with none of them should start feeling fed up or bored and get that evil feeling of having abused or having been abused. If a loss has occurred." exclaimed Kamaswami indignantly. had its secret. you are a merchant after all. and returned extremely satisfied from his trip. he'll become more zealous. Then. Here with Kamala was the worth and purpose of his present life. Kamaswami told him about his trade. showed him calculations. became her student." "That's all very nice. "is no proper merchant and will never be one. Much he learned from her red. that he had wasted time and money." The friend advised the merchant: "Give him from the business he conducts for you a third of the profits. he visited beautiful Kamala. supple hand. whether this may be a good star of his birth. Siddhartha got to know many new things. fine shoes. He always seems to be merely playing with out business-affairs. let me bear that loss. "but in fact. forced him to treat him as an equal." Kamaswami followed the advice. a servant prepared a bath for him. him she taught. every spot of the body. Him. every caress. he heard a lot and spoke little. Wonderful hours he spent with the beautiful and smart artist. that lovers must not part from one another after celebrating love. nit with the business of Kamaswami. and in the art of listening and deeply understanding previously unknown people. but that he acted in a fortunate manner. showed him the merchandise and storage-rooms. in calmness and equanimity. without being just as defeated as they have been victorious. "This Brahman. the merchant. he is never upset by a loss. the rules of which he tried hard to learn precisely. joined in the celebration of a wedding. he travelled to a village to buy a large harvest of rice there. he was never subservient to the merchant. Clothes were brought to him. as if he did not care about the business. a plentiful meal was served." he said to a friend. every look. but Siddhartha only ate once a day. but let him also be liable for the same amount of the losses. Twice a day. Kamaswami held against him that he had not turned back right away. or something he has learned among Samanas. He soon saw that Siddhartha knew little about rice and wool. Siddhartha stayed for several days in that village. who was. But Siddhartha cared little about this. Much he learned from her tender. nobody knew that I was a merchant. still a boy and had a tendency to plunge blindly and insatiably into lust like into a bottomless pit. so this one turned out badly!" It seemed indeed. shipping and trade. magic. he accepted it with equanimity. regarding love. children have sat on my knees. treated the farmers for a drink. thoroughly starting with the basics. there is never any passion in his soul when he conducts our business. dear friend! Nothing was ever achieved by scolding. gave copper-coins to their children. Siddhartha answered: "Stop scolding. every touch. Nevertheless.Siddhartha 26 Siddhartha thanked and accepted. She taught him. but Siddhartha looked upon all of this as if it was a game. and shoes. But daily. at the hour appointed by her. when there is a loss. I am very satisfied with this trip. farmers have shown me their fields. and that every gesture. he is never afraid of failure. The merchant passed to duties of writing important letters and contracts on to him and got into the habit of discussing all important affairs with him. her friend. they never rule over him. Kamaswami conducted his business with care and often with passion. they never fully become a part of him. yes even more than an equal. He was not in Kamaswami's house for long. And thinking of Kamala's words. When he made a profit. and every day. and lived in the dealers house from now on. I have gotten to know many kinds of people. wearing pretty clothes. and that Siddhartha surpassed him. however small it was. a Brahman has become my friend. look at this. which would bring happiness to those who know about it and unleash it. But he has that mysterious quality of those people to whom success comes all by itself. But when he got there. and ate neither meat nor did he drink wine. one ought to think! Or might you have only travelled for your amusement?" . without one admiring the other. At one time. about that school of thought which teaches that pleasure cannot be be taken without giving pleasure. her lover. he laughed and said: "Well.

welcome was the debtor who sought another loan. Kamaswami held against him that he had learned everything he knew from him. Siddhartha's interest and curiosity was only concerned with the people. and becoming gray for the sake of things which seemed to him to entirely unworthy of this price. When. found amusement in them. and suffering because of deprivations which a Samana would not feel. he hardly perceived it. "surely I have travelled for my amusement. you ought to be the one seeking to learn from me. he played with his business-deals. for little pleasures. As a ball-player plays with his balls. quiet voice. he let them cheat him a bit. friendly people will receive me in a friendly and happy manner. watched them. consented that he was a little bit right. And there were many who came to him. to sleep badly. as soon as I had seen that my purchase had been rendered impossible. for money. and don't harm yourself by scolding! If the day will come. whose businesses. to complain about his worries or to reproach him concerning his business. of. which he loved and also despised at the same time." Indeed his soul was not with the trade. At times he felt. I have found friendship. When Kamaswami came to him. and I will praise myself for not showing any hurry and displeasure at that time. for an hour. and this entire game and the passion with which all people played this game occupied his thoughts just as much as the gods and Brahmans used to occupy them. my dear Kamaswami. many to draw some secret out of him. He saw them toiling. he saw them complaining about pain at which a Samana would only smile. I have received kindness and trust. he became aware of the strange life he was leading. these people brought his way. he . These are your areas of expertise. leave it as it is. to have wrinkles on the forehead. I've neither harmed myself nor others by annoyance and hastiness. with the people around him. being annoyed and in a hurry. For what else? I have gotten to know people and places. had joy. in learning from all of them. let's be satisfied with one another. in living with all of them. he made gifts. many to cheat him. many to appeal to his sympathy. he was still aware that there was something which separated him from them and this separating factor was him being a Samana. with his heart. I've learned. And if I'll ever return there again. saw them suffering. with the source of his being. Look. But until then. and acts of foolishness used to be as alien and distant to him as the moon. He gave advice. Siddhartha ate his own bread. which admonished him quietly. towards the next person who would ask for him. and time and money would indeed have been lost. perhaps to buy an upcoming harvest. only as much as he considered indispensable. for being slightly honoured. He did not treat the rich foreign merchant any different than the servant who shaved him and the street-vendor whom he let cheat him out of some small change when buying bananas." Futile were also the merchant's attempts. Welcome was the merchant who offered him linen for sale. one day. many to do business with him. a dying. was puzzled by him. many to get his advice." Siddhartha laughed. I've had a few good days. or a debtor seemed to be unable to pay. However easily he succeeded in talking to all of them. pleasures. if I had been Kamaswami. though being happy and feeling joy at times. He saw mankind going trough life in a childlike or animallike manner. and turned away from him. all people's bread. The business was good enough to provide him with the money for Kamala. to convince Siddhartha that he should eat his bread. or for whatever purpose it might be. my dear. And then. I haven't learned to think from you. Whether there was a business-deal going on which was in danger of failing. Siddhartha never listened to Kamaswami's worries and Kamaswami had many worries. tried to understand him. Kamaswami could never convince his partner that it would be useful to utter a few words of worry or anger. worries. He was open to everything. or whether a shipment of merchandise seemed to have been lost. when you will see: this Siddhartha is harming me. I would have travelled back. and it earned him much more than he needed. he pitied. he replied: "Would you please not kid me with such jokes! What I've learned from you is how much a basket of fish costs and how much interests may be charged on loaned money. real life still passing him by and not touching him. my friend. of him doing lots of things which were only a game. But like this. Besides from this. he listened curiously and happily. crafts. or rather they both ate other people's bread. lamented quietly. he saw them scolding and insulting each other. welcome was the beggar who told him for one hour the story of his poverty and who was not half as poor as any given Samana. deep in his chest. So. then speak a word and Siddhartha will go on his own path.Siddhartha 27 "Surely.

Siddhartha had lived the life of the world and of lust. But others. more willing. no wind reaches them. Thousands of followers are listening to his teachings every day." she said. there is a peace and refuge. Her body was flexible like that of a jaguar and like the bow of a hunter. you're having a Samana's thoughts. and inside of you. people of our kind can't love. had tasted lust. Among all the learned men and Samanas. far away from him. had remained alien to him as he was alien to them. there was one of this kind. Kamala. I'd want to bear your child. received advice. ran and ran invisibly. who are small children with respect to their mind. Once." "Not all people are smart. For a long time. of waiting. Others have it. when I'll be older. had awoken again. Most people. you love nobody. at his eyes. and tumbles to the ground. which guided his life. being smart. and a garden before the city by the . of which I knew many. you're talking about him. The courtesan bent over him. She understood him better than Govinda used to understand him. His senses. which had grown tired. are like stars. of fasting. one of the thirty or forty different games Kamala knew. really to act. he came back to beautiful Kamala. learned from her. was knowledgeable of many forms of lust. he said to her: "You are like me. He had become rich. you are different from most people. really to live. and wavers. Years passed by. really to enjoy and to live instead of just standing by as a spectator." SANSARA For a long time. more supple. practised the cult of lust. Isn't it so?" "It might very well be so. she was more similar to him. not in themselves they have teachings and a law. he had tasted riches. they go on a fixed course.Siddhartha 28 was not with them. Kamala. Kamaswami is just as smart as I. embraced him: enjoyed his masterful skills. "No. the childlike people. until he was defeated and rested exhausted by her side. which he had killed off in hot years as a Samana. "that's not the reason why. nothing else." said Kamala. learned the art of love. who is spreading that teachings. You are Kamala. You also do not love--how else could you practise love as a craft? Perhaps. And yet." Kamala looked at him with a smile. You're stronger than others. follow his instructions every hour. that's their secret. rejected him. she played with Siddhartha. a perfected one." Siddhartha said nothing. had tasted power. The childlike people can. Siddhartha. enticed him." said Siddhartha." she said thoughtfully. The source ran somewhere. I'll never be able to forget him. you've remained a Samana. still the people of the world. forced him. gave her advice. and they played the game of love. which is blown and is turning around through the air. a few. At some time. but they are all falling leaves. are like a falling leaf. It is that Gotama. Few people have this. "I ever saw. though without being a part of it. and yet you do not love me. "again. had realized this quite right. and still has no refuge in himself. surrounded by the good life. in themselves they have their law and their course. It was still the art of thinking. nevertheless he had still remained in his heart for a long time a Samana. my dear. and yet all could have it. the exalted one. You've learned my art well. had nothing to do with his life any more. "Again. in which more than in anything else giving and taking becomes one. chatted with her. as I can also do. But again and again. "I am like you. took a long look at his face. to which you can go at every hour of the day and be at home at yourself. And at several times he suddenly became scared on account of such thoughts and wished that he would also be gifted with the ability to participate in all of this childlike-naive occupations of the daytime with passion and with his heart. he who had learned from her how to make love. "You are the best lover. many secrets." Siddhartha said tiredly. for quite a while he possessed a house of his own and his own servants. Siddhartha hardly felt them fading away.

which used to be near. but there was nobody close to him. whenever they needed money or advice. gets wrinkles. of ill-humour. he had learned to wear beautiful clothes. the more similar he became to them. joy of thinking. disappointment and disgust were waiting. Slowly the disease of the soul. as the harvest seasons and rainy seasons passed by. which used to murmur within himself. But he did not learn this from them. and assumed. grabbed hold of him. the wheel of differentiation for a long time. a bit heavier every year. made it tired. with women. . secret knowledge of the self. the holy source murmured. after the separation from Govinda. filling it slowly and making it rot. of his eternal entity. had slowly become a memory. one after another. with the same disdain which a Samana constantly feels for the people of the world. gets stains. that supple willingness to listen to the divine voice in his own heart. even meat and poultry. Siddhartha had always watched it with mockery. Slowly. even fish. thus Siddhartha's new life. some mocking disdain. He had learned to play with dice and on a chess-board. with their children. He had learned to eat tenderly and carefully prepared food. to give orders to servants. and to drink wine. which had awoken in him at that time and had ever guided him in his best times. That high. the fearful but sweet happiness of being constantly in love. when he lost a game of dice. bright state of being awake. gets worn off at the seams. of a lack of love. in the morning after having had company the night before. And yet. It happened more and more often that. He only noticed that this bright and reliable voice inside of him. the wheel of thinking. Siddhartha had learned to trade. which he had started after his separation from Govinda. when he was vexed by his worries as a merchant. made it heavy. when he felt insulted. this joy of a child and this foolishness of a child. which he had experienced that one time at the height of his youth. had become silent. he learned from them out of all things the unpleasant ones. there was much they had learned. they came to him. felt unable to think and tired. with plans or hopes. when Kamaswami bored him with his worries. and hidden at bottom. his mockery had become more tired. but one part after another had been submerged and had gathered dust. except Kamala. Nevertheless. was gathering wrinkles and stains. will keep on turning for a long time and only slowly lose its vigour and come to a stop. Many a part of this he still had. he had learned from his father the Brahman. when he was annoyed. much they had experienced. lost colour and splendour as the years passed by. tiredness came over Siddhartha. to have himself carried about in a sedan-chair. had remained within him for a long time afterwards: moderate living. already showing its ugliness here and there.Siddhartha 29 river. among his growing riches. still turning. put it to sleep. When Kamaswami was ailing. those features which are so often found in the faces of rich people. Just slowly and imperceptibly. Siddhartha had assumed something of the childlike people's ways for himself. to watch dancing girls. that proud state of standing alone without teachings and without teachers. something of their childlikeness and of their fearfulness. slowly. had grown old. thus Siddhartha's soul had kept on turning the wheel of asceticism. the amount of passion in their joys and fears. envied them just the more. many things he had learned from the Samanas. this out of all things. but it rarely laughed. to bathe in perfumed waters. which he himself despised. The people liked him. Like a veil. which causes sloth and forgetfulness. to use his power over people. hours of meditation. getting a bit denser every day. that tense expectation. His face was still smarter and more spiritual than others. with honours or money. he had learned from Gotama. of sickliness. his superiority had become more quiet. loses its beautiful colour in time. of sloth. to sleep on a soft bed. in those days after Gotama's sermon. to enjoy himself with a woman. his senses had become alive. As a new dress becomes old in time. those features of discontent. Just as a potter's wheel. he stayed in bed for a long time. had been fleeting. These people were all of the time in love with themselves. But still he had felt different from and superior to the others. once it has been set in motion. Siddhartha did not notice it. a bit murkier every month. distant and quiet. always he had watched them with some mockery. like humidity entering the dying stem of a tree. It happened that he laughed just too loud. which is neither body nor consciousness. spices and sweets. He envied them for the one thing that was missing from him and that they had. It happened that he became angry and impatient. the importance they were able to attach to their lives. the world and sloth had entered Siddhartha's soul. Just slowly. slowly it filled his soul. which rich people have. and starts to show threadbare spots here and there. but it turned slowly and hesitantly and was close to coming to a standstill. he envied them. like a thin mist. On the other hand.

lost his patience when he was not payed on time. he had to tell her about the exalted Buddha. fear of the autumn. perhaps not even conscious anxiety: fear of old age. here and there." But after this. they were no longer a game and trifles to him. It was since that time. he continued fleeing. lukewarm. how kind his smile. something like an elevated form of life in the midst of his saturated. possessions. Then. won again. He had spend the hours of the evening with Kamala. dull life. while he was worried about losing high stakes. repulsive taste of the wine. and had for a long time sought to sleep in vain. few dared to take him on. which he felt while he was rolling the dice. his heart full of misery which he thought he could not bear any longer. growing tired. losing and wasting his wretched money in the game brought him an angry joy. fear of having to die. that terrible and petrifying fear. won thousands. who gambled away tens of thousands at one roll of the dice and laughed at it. sloth. Never before. just as Siddhartha himself. continue demonstrating his disdain of wealth. Then he had lain by her side. threw away thousands. perhaps soon. he had bid his farewell to her. Thus he gambled with high stakes and mercilessly. he wanted to continue squandering. Siddhartha had gotten into this final and most base of all dependencies. and riches also had finally captured him. in no other way he could demonstrate his disdain for wealth. his mind was set on new riches. close to weeping and despair. by means of the game of dice. With a sigh. still unsaid. He played the game due to a pain of his heart. That fear. that fear he loved and sought to always renew it. how closely lust was akin to death. fleeing into a numbing of his mind brought on by sex. hating himself. so high and audacious were his stakes. the merchants' false god. gray hairs among his black ones. Property. always get it to a slightly higher level. became more strict and more petty in his business. who was only in his forties. growing old. once more. whenever he found his face in the mirror at the bedroom's wall to have aged and become more ugly. talking. an inscription of small lines. and Kamala had sighed and had said: "One day. lost again. how peaceful his walk had been. of slight grooves. lost his kindness towards beggars. words behind which a sadness and tiredness lay hidden.Siddhartha 30 He had been captured by the world. mocking himself. she wanted to squeeze the last sweet drop out of this vain. by wine. pursued the trade more zealously. when he had stopped being a Samana in his heart. which he at other times only joined with a smile and casually as a custom of the childlike people. I'll give him my pleasure-garden for a gift and take my refuge in his teachings. and concealed. Tiredness was written on Kamala's beautiful face. which has no happy destination. Siddhartha had spent the night in his house with dancing girls and wine. that Siddhartha began to play the game for money and precious things. and Kamala had said thoughtful words. and full of concealed anxiety. always increase it. had acted as if he was superior to them towards the fellow-members of his caste. forced his debtors more strictly to pay. full of a disgust which he felt penetrating his entire body like the lukewarm. For a long time. she had aroused him. lost jewelry. in her beautiful pleasure-garden. Then the time came when a dream warned him. She had asked him to tell her about Gotama. and had tied him to her in the act of making love with painful fervour. growing ill. something like an intoxication. read a fearful inscription. Siddhartha lost his calmness when losses occurred. fleeing into a new game. an inscription reminiscent of autumn and old age. tiredness from walking a long path. as clearly as never before. On a strange and devious way. fleeting pleasure. how clear his eyes. how still and beautiful his mouth. and from there he fled back into the urge to pile up and obtain possessions. the just . lost his disposition for giving away and loaning money to those who petitioned him. being tired and yet excited. and under her eyes and next to the corners of her mouth he had. And after each big loss. as if. tiredness and the beginning of withering. because he wanted to continue gambling. the soul full of reluctance. covetousness. biting and in tears. it had become so strangely clear to Siddhartha. I'll also follow that Buddha. had become a shackle and a burden. They had been sitting under the trees. whenever embarrassment and disgust came over him. He was a feared gambler. had drunk much wine and gone to bed a long time after midnight. In this pointless cycle he ran. and could not hear enough of him. occasionally dreaming at night about money! And whenever he woke up from this ugly spell. and Kamala's face had been close to him. for in this feeling alone he still felt something like happiness. had already noticed. lost money. with an increasing rage and passion. more clearly and more mockingly. lost a house in the country. He. by lust. though this was no longer true. and finally also by that vice which he had used to despise and mock the most as the most foolish one of all vices: greed.

as an assistant in the offerings. felt death in his heart and horror in his chest. had been valuable to him--but was she still thus? Did he still need her. without a high goal. dull music. Siddhartha knew that the game was over. a dance he would watch. Siddhartha went to the pleasure-garden he owned. in the dispute with the learned ones. and in the same moment. rare singing bird in a golden cage. When. sat and sensed how everything died in him. in an immense burst of disgust. these habits and all of this pointless life and himself. and in his mind. For how long had he not heard this voice any more. something had died. he had felt it in his heart: "There is a path in front of the one who has distinguished himself in the recitation of the holy verses. upward fleeing. or she him? Did they not play a game without an ending? Was it necessary to live for this? No. He dreamt: this bird had become mute. Of this bird. and then threw it away. in the midst of the thirst. In his years as a boy. and since this arose his attention. his life had been much more miserable and poorer than theirs. when every obtained knowledge only kindled new thirst in him. he once again went the entire path of his life. and their goals were not his. a game for children. for many long years. . Starting up from this dream. nothing which was alive. nothing which was in some way delicious or worth keeping he had left in his hands. then again he had. nor their worries. Like when someone. and again when he had gone away from the Samanas to that perfected one. But more than by anything else. he had slightly fallen asleep. it was not necessary! The name of this game was Sansara. had found for a few moments a half unconsciousness. as if he had thrown away from himself all value and everything good by throwing out this dead bird.Siddhartha 31 too sweet. Alone he stood there and empty like a castaway on the shore. inside of him. In those moments. goal of all thinking had ripped him out of and up from the multitude of those seeking the same goal. worthless and pointless was the way he had been going through life. the gods are awaiting you. for how long had he reached no height any more. when the night had fallen. the just too soft smile of the dancing girls. and his heart hurt. he stepped in front of the cage and looked inside. ten times--but for ever and ever over again? Then. thinking of his father. several times he had experienced such a thing. came to an end in him. Only Kamala had been dear. he felt encompassed by a deep sadness. a game which was perhaps enjoyable to play once. twice. he had tried hard and longed to become a man like those many. when he had obtained praise from the Brahmans. and also when he had gone away from him to the uncertain. sat down under a mango-tree. after all. he had a dream: Kamala owned a small. vomits it back up again with agonising pain and is nevertheless glad about the relief. by the smell of wine from his mouth. that he could not play it any more. how even and dull was the manner in which his path had passed through life. when he wrestled in pain for the purpose of Brahman. he has had a taste of it. He took it out. who has eaten and drunk far too much. without thirst. the just too sweet scent of their hair and breasts. when the ever rising. thus this sleepless man wished to free himself of these pleasures. weighed it for a moment in his hand. you are destined for. Did he have to leave them to become a Kamaswami? He still sat there. he gathered his thoughts. by the flabby tiredness and listlessness of his skin. that entire world of the Kamaswami-people had only been a game to him. By and by. he had felt it in his heart: "There is a path in front of you. a hint of sleep. With a gloomy mind. locked the gate. Shivers ran over his body. content with small lustful pleasures and yet never satisfied! For all of these many years. felt a true bliss? Oh yes. he sat under the mango-tree. there the small bird was dead and lay stiff on the ground. by his perfumed hair. so it seemed to him. who at other times always used to sing in the morning. like those children. and in all this. he dreamt. as a young man. so he felt. without knowing it himself. thinking of Govinda. he felt terribly shocked. out in the street. he was disgusted by himself. That entire day. Not until the light of the morning and the beginning of the first activities in the street before his city-house. thinking of Gotama. Worthless. starting with the first days he could remember. When was there ever a time when he had experienced happiness." And again. without elevation. withered in him. in the midst of the pain felt this very same thing: "Go on! Go on! You are called upon!" He had heard this voice when he had left his home and had chosen the life of a Samana." Then. a comedy.

she had felt this the last time they had been together. a poison which would numb his senses. she received no more visitors and kept her house locked. of the table with the meals on it. full of the feeling of been sick of it. Tiredness and hunger had weakened him. She opened the door of the cage. hesitantly he stood at the bank. that he owned a mango-tree. she went to the window. a dreariness of the soul he had not brought upon himself? Was it still at all possible to be alive? Was it possible. that he owned a garden? He also put an end to this. Since he had been without food this day. full of death. to sleep with a woman again? Was this cycle not exhausted and brought to a conclusion for him? Siddhartha reached the large river in the forest. to have rest. to which goal? No. there was nothing left in this world which could have attracted him. he had dreamt of. He smiled tiredly. that this life. Dead was the singing bird. a ferryman had conducted him. Siddhartha left his garden. Deeply. sucked everything out of it until he was disgusted with it. that there was no going back for him. his farewell to the pleasure-garden. and whatever for should he walk on. was over and done away with. bid his farewell to the mango-tree. and no awakening from that! Was there still any kind of filth. to be dead. From this day on. he thought: "Here I'm sitting under my mango-tree. a coconut-tree. to sleep again. when he had still been a young man and came from the town of Gotama. For a long time. was already far from the city. When she received the first news of Siddhartha's disappearance. in spite of all the pain of the loss. took the bird out and let it fly. and thought of his house in the city. Passionately he wished to know nothing about himself anymore. and bid his farewell to these things. that she had pulled him so affectionately to her heart for this last time. of his chamber and bed. Siddhartha leaned against its trunk with his shoulder. and knew nothing but that one thing. he felt strong hunger. a man who was at home nowhere. He rose. was it not as foolish game. answering to the terrible emptiness in his soul. full of misery. as he had lived it for many years until now. and never came back. the flying bird. Dead was the bird in his heart. A hang bent over the bank of the river. Kamaswami had people look for him. she gazed after it. a pilgrim? And most of all. left the city. and she was happy. When she was told that Siddhartha had disappeared.Siddhartha 32 looking up. Kamala had no one look for him. By this river he stopped. and looked down into the green water. wherever to. If there only was a lightning-bolt to strike him dead! If there only was a tiger a devour him! If there only was a wine. there was nothing left but the deep. he had sucked up disgust and death from all sides into his body. was it right. he had not soiled himself with. thinking that he had fallen into the hands of robbers. A frightening emptiness was reflected back at him by the water. to breathe out. to feel hunger. . BY THE RIVER Siddhartha walked through the forest. bring him forgetfulness and sleep. to spit out this stale wine. In the same hour of the night. to put an end to this miserable and shameful life. to eat again. there were no more goals. and that he had tasted all of it. he caught sight of the stars. given him comfort. to breathe in again and again. looked down and found himself to be entirely filled with the wish to let go and to drown in these waters. embraced the trunk with one arm. a sin or foolish act he had not committed. Did she not always expect it? Was he not a Samana. And full he was. she became aware that she was pregnant from the last time she was together with Siddhartha. For a long time. given him joy. But after some time. he had been entangled in Sansara. the same river over which a long time ago. painful yearning to shake off this whole desolate dream. this also died in him. she was not astonished. that she had felt one more time to be so completely possessed and penetrated by him. shook himself. in my pleasure-garden. where she held a rare singing bird captive in a golden cage. like a sponge sucks up water until it is full." He smiled a little --was it really necessary. which ran and ran under him.

under a coconut-tree. . struck down by tiredness. And in the moment when the sound of "Om" touched Siddhartha's ear. It was a word. opened his eyes. which he. infinitely far away. He observed the man. a monk in a yellow robe with a shaven head. out of past times of his now weary life. this weakened and abused soul! Let him be food for fishes and crocodiles. saw the reflection of his face and spit at it. the smashing to bits of the form he hated! Let him be food for fishes. Om! he spoke to himself: Om! and again he knew about Brahman. Then. So this was how things were with him. his dormant spirit suddenly woke up and realized the foolishness of his actions. this depraved and rotten body.Siddhartha 33 Yes. saw with astonishment that there were trees and the sky above him. full of disgust and wretchedness. this lunatic. so much he had lost his way and was forsaken by all knowledge. Siddhartha straightened up. the weird one. in order to finally drown. into the nameless. infinitely distant. the eccentric. Deep was his sleep and without dreams. mumbling Om. with a slurred voice. Siddhartha collapsed. like an early pre-birth of his present self)--that his previous life had been abandoned by him. an unknown man. this wish of a child. a thinking of Om. a syllable. he took his arm away from the trunk of the tree and turned a bit. joyful and curious. knew this self in his chest. he felt as if ten years had passed. a sound stirred up. a submergence and complete entering into Om. who had neither hair on his head nor a beard. sitting in the position of pondering. he has come to his senses. he had really died. infinitely meaningless. the old word which is the beginning and the end of all prayers of the Brahmans. and he remembered where he was and how he got here. that he had been able to seek death. all sobering realizations. let him be chopped to bits by the daemons! With a distorted face. that then he had fallen asleep and had now woken up and was looking at the world as a new man. But it took him a long while for this. did not know where he was and who had brought him here. when the Om entered his consciousness: he became aware of himself in his misery and in his error. and the past seemed to him as if it had been covered by a veil. the perfected. this past life seemed to him like a very old. the holy "Om". he spoke the word Om to himself. without thinking. which he had forgotten. he had even intended to throw his life away. except to annihilate himself. he had reached the end. this Siddhartha. Govinda had aged. spoke to himself. placed his head on the root of the tree and fell into a deep sleep. this was brought on by this moment. out of remote areas of his soul. When he woke up after many hours. that. this dog Siddhartha. but that by a river. then he saw a person sitting opposite to him. was renewed. With his eyes closed. he stared into the water. was strangely well rested. he too. Quietly. thus renewed. in order to let himself fall straight down. except to smash the failure into which he had shaped his life. that this wish. knew about all that is divine. There was nothing left for him. had drowned and was reborn in a new body? But no. In deep tiredness. had been able to grow in him: to find rest by annihilating his body! What all agony of these recent times. Siddhartha was deeply shocked. the friend of his youth. before the feet of mockingly laughing gods. What a wonderful sleep had this been! Never before by sleep. all desperation had not brought about. speaking which he had fallen asleep. strangely awake. to throw it away. By the foot of the coconut-tree. which roughly means "that what is perfect" or "the completion". and it seemed to him as if his entire long sleep had been nothing but a long meditative recitation of Om. and he had not observed him for long when he recognised this monk as Govinda. so doomed was he. he knew his hand and his feet. thus rejuvenated! Perhaps. but this Siddhartha was nevertheless transformed. knew the place where he lay. the holy word Om on his lips. he knew himself. he heard the water quietly flowing. for a long time he had not known such a sleep any more. He only knew that his previous life (in the first moment when he thought about it. knew about the indestructibility of life. previous incarnation. flash. But this was only a moment. This was the great vomiting he had longed for: death. Govinda who had taken his refuge with the exalted Buddha. he slipped towards death. he had been thus refreshed.

But. you're wearing the shoes of a distinguished gentleman.Siddhartha 34 but still his face bore the same features. friend." Govinda made the gesture of a salutation and said: "Farewell." "I thank you. and I believe in you. I sought to wake you up. again I thank you for this. for watching out over my sleep." spoke Siddhartha." "It also gives me joy. live according to the rules if the teachings passed on to us. and from the offerings. Samana. But when Govinda now. Badly. "However did you get here?" "You have been sleeping. always be in good health. when I saw you lying and sleeping in a place where it is dangerous to sleep. Now. We monks are always travelling. searching. sir." said Siddhartha. the Buddha. May you. he had been sitting here for a long time and been waiting for him to wake up. we always move from one place to another. opened his eyes and looked at him. Samana. sir." "Farewell. Siddhartha. so it seems. accept alms. I'm recognising you. I have served you. You're wearing a rich man's garments. the Sakyamuni. oh sir. and from the school of the Brahmans. I'm on a pilgrimage. "I know you. move on. "You're friendly. you followers of the exalted one. It is always like this. let me go to catch up with my brothers. where snakes often are and the animals of the forest have their paths. Be welcome. from where do you know my name?" Now." said Siddhartha." Govinda spoke: "You're saying: you're on a pilgrimage." "I thank you." "I'm going. Siddhartha. to see you again. oh Govinda. and since I saw that your sleep was very deep. sir." "You're Siddhartha. my joy is great. Govinda. and from that hour when you took your refuge with the exalted one in the grove Jetavana. But now that you're awake. oh Siddhartha. tiredness has overwhelmed me. faithfulness. You've been the guard of my sleep. expressed zeal. And then. from your father's hut. sensing his gaze. is not a pilgrim's hair. not the hair of a . I stayed behind from my group and sat with you. though he did not know him. Now you may go then. with the fragrance of perfume. and don't comprehend any more how I couldn't recognise you right away. it is as it is with you. to see you again. where are you going to?" Quoth Siddhartha: "With me too. Siddhartha smiled. I. oh sir. Govinda was happy to find him awake. though I wouldn't have required any guard. Where are you going to. oh friend?" "I'm going nowhere. and your hair. whenever it is not the rainy season. and have been on a pilgrimage together with several of us on this path. "Permit me to ask. But you." answered Govinda. Siddhartha saw that Govinda did not recognise him. I'm going nowhere. I'm just travelling. "It is not good to be sleeping in such places. am a follower of the exalted Gotama." Govinda exclaimed loudly. forgive me. Therefore. The monk stopped. and from our walk to the Samanas. "I have been sleeping. I have fallen asleep myself. I who wanted to guard your sleep. apparently. timidness. you do not look like a pilgrim.

you've seen this quite right. my dear. had been able to do three noble and undefeatable feats: fasting--waiting--thinking. that he was not able to love anybody or anything. How wondrous is this! Now. nor thinking. Govinda. laborious years of his youth. Siddhartha watched him leave. he loved him still. Siddhartha thought about his situation." 35 "I believe you.Siddhartha Samana. Govinda. The sleep had strengthened him much. he had boasted of three three things to Kamala. They somehow happened to slip away from me. he had given them up. for by now he had not eaten for two days. that he was full of joyful love for everything he saw. I'm wearing them. in the glorious hour after his wonderful sleep. so he remembered. my dear Govinda. I don't know it just like you. but hunger gave him much pain. he had learned these three feats. such a garment. since all these most easily perishing things have slipped from me again. so it seemed. was this very thing that he loved everything. I have no abilities. now I'm starting again at the beginning . anything but eternal are our garments and the style of our hair. that my strength is fading. and the times were long past when he had been tough against hunger. And so it is: I'm on a pilgrimage. and our hair and bodies themselves. And now. today. there is nothing I could bring about. not eternal. And it was this very thing. But I haven't said to you that I was a Samana. being a pilgrim myself for many years. he thought. that I'm no longer young. for what fades most quickly. he gave him the salutation which one would use on a gentleman and went on his way. I don't know. These had been his possession." "Right so." Govinda looked at the friend of his youth for a long time. because I have been a rich man. In those days. The wheel of physical manifestations is turning quickly. few in such shoes. for sensual lust. few with such hair. Remember. But now. they had abandoned him. he thought of that time. none of them was his any more. nothing else." "You're on a pilgrimage. I have learned nothing. And how could he not have loved everybody and everything in this moment. his power and strength. I'm travelling. so it seemed to him now. in the busy. Siddhartha watched the leaving monk. now he had really become a childlike person. for the good life. I was a rich man and am no rich man any more. you've met a pilgrim just like this. nothing is mine." said Govinda. which had been his sickness before. which had happened inside of him in his sleep and by means of the Om. you have observed well. I said: I'm on a pilgrimage. this faithful man. After that. "But few would go on a pilgrimage in such clothes. With a smiling face. and yet also with a smile. filled with Om! The enchantment. for riches! His life had indeed been strange. that my hair is already half gray. Never I have met such a pilgrim. Thinking was hard on him. Now. you know it. I'm wearing a rich man's clothes. and I'm wearing my hair like the worldly and lustful people. his solid staff. Where is Siddhartha the Brahman? Where is Siddhartha the Samana? Where is Siddhartha the rich man? Non-eternal things change quickly. this fearful man. for I have been one of them. but he forced himself. now I'm standing here under the sun again just as I have been standing here a little child. and what I'll be tomorrow. my dear: Not eternal is the world of appearances. he did not really feel like it. wearing such shoes. your keen eyes see everything. neither fasting. With sadness. And now. Siddhartha." "And now. what are you now?" "I don't know it. For the most wretched things. with doubt in his eyes." "You've lost your riches?" "I've lost them or they me. With a smiling face. nor waiting.

which I said? Or from the fact that I have escaped. I followed the penitents. But he could not feed sad about this. to hear Om again. Like this. this I like. never again I will. and that he had not succumbed to it. delude myself into thinking that Siddhartha was wise! But this one thing I have done well. piled up money. that the bird. to forget the oneness. Wonderfully. well upholstered hell. Isn't it just as if I had turned slowly and on a long detour from a man into a child. was searching for Brahman. to the thought of suicide. he could have stayed with Kamaswami. learned to love my stomach. As a youth. "Things are going downhill with you!" he said to himself. which has done me so good? Or from the word Om. listened curiously to his stomach. this was why his face was smiling brightly under his hair which had . the joyful source and voice in him was still alive after all. I had to spend many years losing my spirit. learned to hunger. as I used to like doing so much. to laugh about himself. for much longer he could have lived in this soft. Yes. and singing and being happy through it all. he happened to glance at the river. you have once again had an idea. How did I hate this world of the rich. Siddhartha. foolish world. kindly he smiled at the river. that I am finally free again and am standing like a child under the sky? Oh how good is it to have fled. a piece of suffering. so he thought. when he hang over the rushing waters and was ready to destroy himself. he even felt a great urge to laugh. have made myself old and evil! No. of sloth. worshipped the eternal in the Atman. As I boy.Siddhartha 36 and as a child! Again. and he also saw the river going downhill. to that foolish and dreary life! I praise you. always moving on downhill. this was why he felt joy. to have become free! How clean and beautiful is the air here. there everything smelled of ointments. a hundred years ago. no. soon afterwards. He had now. For much longer. it moves in loops. learned to please my senses. in these recent times and days. wondrous detours it has taken. filled his stomach. of spices. have done something. from a thinker into a childlike person? And yet. through so many errors. the bird in my chest has not died. to be able to sleep properly and awake properly again. to find Atman in me again. completely tasted and spit out. if this had not happened: the moment of complete hopelessness and despair. and let his soul die of thirst. suffered of heat and frost. Was this not the river in which he had intended to drown himself. to laugh about this strange. he felt joy rolling like waves in his chest. my heart says "Yes" to it. to be able to live again. that there is now an end to that hatred against myself. found joy in himself. he had to smile. through so much vices. wasted money. and yet. of excess. insight came towards me in the form of the great Buddha's teachings. I had only to do with asceticism. with thinking and meditation. so he felt. But it was right so. wasted money. of those who revel in fine food. in past times. this path has been very good. and laughed about it. good sleep. learned trading with Kamaswami. to unlearn thinking again. taught my body to become dead. this I must praise. through so much disgust and disappointments and woe. that most extreme moment. this deep disgust. perhaps it is going around in a circle. Wherever from. a piece of misery. and as he was saying it. But I also had to leave Buddha and the great knowledge. this path. poisoned. Let it go as it likes. I've had to experience despair. I had only to do with gods and offerings. he asked his heart. Where else might my path lead me to? It is foolish. that I have completely fled. made money. which was rumbling with hunger. where I ran away from. my eyes smile to it. But as a young man. That he had felt this despair. have deprive. He liked this well. But what a path has this been! I had to pass through so much stupidity. tortured myself. I had to become a fool. I've had to sink down to the most foolish one of all thoughts. lived in the forest. have heard the bird in your chest singing and have followed it! Thus he praised himself. devoured up to the point of desperation and death. just to become a child again and to be able to start over. his fate had been strange! Things were going downhill with him. this was why he laughed. I went and learned the art of love with Kamala. Wonderfully. it was good. after so many years of foolishness. how good to breathe! There. I want to to take it. or had he dreamed this? Wondrous indeed was my life. of wine. and now he was again facing the world void and naked and stupid. of the gamblers! How did I hate myself for staying in this terrible world for so long! How did I hate myself. I had to sin. in order to be able to experience divine grace. where from did you get this happiness? Might it come from that long. I felt the knowledge of the oneness of the world circling in me like my own blood.

so rich in secrets. my present new life. and was full of joy. the teachings. and proud self. my path had led me at that time into a new life. I have known it for a long time. Into being a priest. something which already for a long time had yearned to die. and decided for himself. he looked into the rushing water. Therefore. too many holy verses. Cheerfully. something he did not know yet. bearing the disgust. which had now grown old and is dead--my present path. always the smartest. in my stomach. by this lovely river? Was it not due to this death. never before he had like a water so well as this one. in it the old. With a thousand eyes. the new Siddhartha. quiet bubbles of air floating on the reflecting surface. the blue of the sky being depicted in it. desperate Siddhartha had drowned today. Siddhartha the greedy could also die. until the priest and Samana in him was dead. prohibited joy. into the transparent green. in my heart. and a greedy person. he had to continue bearing these ugly years. He had died. always the knowing and spiritual one. that he was now like a child. he is the one I want to go to. He thought these thoughts. But the new Siddhartha felt a deep love for this rushing water. as if the river had something special to tell him. too many sacrificial rules. mortal was every physical form. THE FERRYMAN By this river I want to stay. that no teacher would ever have been able to bring about his salvation. which one needs to know. starting out from his hut. he had been. listened to the bird. always the priest or wise one. his small. he pondered his transformation. a drinker. with sky-blue ones. felt fear? Was it not this. In this river. frightened. He would also grow old. How did he love this water. I have already learned as a child. which was back again after every killing. That lust for the world and riches do not belong to the good things. which was still awaiting him. He who would understand this water and its secrets. while he thought he would kill it by fasting and penance. Too much knowledge had held him back. something else from within him had died. always working the most. up to bitter despair. shall also take its start there! Tenderly. a new Siddhartha had woken up from the sleep. Therefore. so without fear. with crystal ones. Had not this bird died in him. had to become a merchant. it is the same which I have crossed a long time ago on my way to the childlike people. which today had finally come to its death. he had to go out into the world. as it sang for joy. here in the forest. a friendly ferryman had guided me then. 37 "It is good. the pointlessness of a dreary and wasted life up to the end. with white ones.Siddhartha turned gray. how did it delight him. thought Siddhartha. And now I know it. as a penitent. so full of trust. Good for me. to know this!" For a long time. to much self-castigation. But today he was young. not to leave it very soon. "to get a taste of everything for oneself. until Siddhartha the lustful. It seemed to him. lose himself to lust and power. mortal was Siddhartha. into this arrogance. Was it not this what he used to intend to kill in his ardent years as a penitent? Was this not his self. how grateful was he to it! In his heart he heard the voice talking. which was newly awaking. the river looked at him. his self had retreated. so much doing and striving for that goal! Full of arrogance. he had wrestled with for so many years. never before he had perceived the voice and the parable of the moving water thus strongly and beautifully. into this spirituality. had he not felt its death? No. so it seemed to him. he looked into the rushing river. Bright pearls he saw rising from the deep. with green ones. to woman and money. and it told him: Love this water! Stay near it! Learn from it! Oh yes. there it sat firmly and grew. always one step ahead of all others. tired." he thought. but I have experienced only now. into the crystal lines of its drawing. Now he saw it and saw that the secret voice had been right. he wanted to learn from it. listened with a smile to his stomach. Siddhartha had intended to drown himself. was a child. but in my eyes. which had defeated him again and again. don't just know it in my memory. listened gratefully to a buzzing bee. he wanted to listen to it. a dice-gambler. would also understand many other . he would also eventually have to die. so full of joy? Now Siddhartha also got some idea of why he had fought this self in vain as a Brahman.

once before you have ferried me across this water in your boat for the immaterial reward of a good deed. be my guest today as well and sleep . "Once before. from me? For you must know. and we parted like good friends." Siddhartha laughed. only felt some idea of it stirring. stood in the boat. and I was a Samana. friend. do it today as well. "I'm not joking. "At one time. the boat was just ready." the passenger spoke. Siddhartha rose. "Would you like to ferry me over?" he asked. and the same ferryman who had once transported the young Samana across the river. Most of all I would like you. But isn't every life. or rather as your trainee." "You're joking. he had also aged very much. listened to the rumbling hunger in his body. understand this! He understood and grasped it not. I have no money to pay your fare. up the path by the bank. and you've been ferried across the river by me. I have been looked upon with distrust. which are a nuisance to me. when you've last seen me. "Now I recognise you. He saw: this water ran and ran. you would soon stop enjoying it. possibly more than twenty years ago. the ferryman looked at the stranger. most of all I wouldn't want to continue travelling at all. the man at the oar moved from side to side: "It is beautiful." "So be welcome. listened to the current. the workings of hunger in his body became unbearable. and was nevertheless always there. a distant memory. he today only saw one. sir. But I envy you for yours. Siddhartha recognised him. being astonished to see such an elegant man walking along and on foot." With a smile. In a daze he walked on. My name is Vasudeva. you've slept in my hut. intent to continue travelling without clothes?" "Ah. I have been looked upon today because of my clothes." For a long time. sir." "Ah." You will. it is as you say. this one touched his soul. like to accept these clothes. all secrets. to give me an old loincloth and kept me with you as your assistant. This is nothing for people wearing fine clothes. Haven't you've been a Samana? I can't think of your name any more. upriver." the ferryman laughed. many secrets. "It must be beautiful to live by this water every day and to cruise on it. The ferryman. and accept my clothes for it. ferryman." "My name is Siddhartha. When he reached the ferry. "It's a beautiful life you have chosen for yourself. took him into his boat and pushed it off the bank." "And do you. was always at all times the same and yet new in every moment! Great be he who would grasp this. isn't every work beautiful?" "This may be true. Siddhartha. divine voices. searching. incessantly it ran. so I hope. Wouldn't you. for I'll have to learn first how to handle the boat. Thus. sir." he finally said. this was a long time ago.Siddhartha things. Behold. ferryman. 38 But out of all secrets of the river.

Now. "but not from me. in that hour of despair. her bed was next to mine. for a long time. Siddhartha felt. but she has died a long time ago. And I also thank you for this. offered him bread and water. This was among the ferryman's virtues one of the greatest: like only a few. If I was able to say and teach it. and the river has become sacred to them. when he spoke of the tree by the river." "You will learn it. how he did not lose a single one. Until late at night. everything can be learned from it. the river. He worked calmly. to sink. Listening carefully. the ferryman listened with twice the attention. I will also learn in this respect from you. It is your friend as well. and Siddhartha told the ferryman about where he originally came from and about his life. then Vasudeva said: "It is as I thought. the river has stopped being an obstacle. The rich and elegant Siddhartha is becoming an oarsman's servant. was just listening. But for some among thousands. all that learning. as he had seen it before his eyes today. and Vasudeva pushed the oar with more strength. I have learned nothing else. they have heard its voice. awaited not a single one with impatience. the speaker sensed how Vasudeva let his words enter his mind. But in the end of Siddhartha's tale. and of his deep fall. Vasudeva. his eyes fixed in on the front of the boat. I also have no special skill in thinking.Siddhartha 39 in my hut." Quoth Siddhartha after a long pause: "What other thing. Siddhartha. lasted his tale. they have listened to it. and also ate with eager pleasure of the mango fruits. all joy. you shall live with me. it speaks to you as well. all distress. he let everything enter his mind. Siddhartha. he helped him to tie the boat to the stakes. quiet. The river has spoken to you." spoke Vasudeva. and how he had felt such a love for the river after his slumber. thousands. You'll learn it. birthplace and childhood. open. in order to overcome the current. But when Siddhartha fell silent. Stay with me. and on pilgrimages." "I thank you. It knows everything. and the river was obstructing their path. Vasudeva listened with great attention. oh friend. entirely and completely absorbed by it. there is space and food for both. I'm no learned man. as it has become sacred to me. You'll learn that other thing from it as well. he accepted Vasudeva's invitation. of the holy Om. and the ferryman's job was to get them quickly across that obstacle. and tell me. where you're coming from and why these beautiful clothes are such a nuisance to you. And I did not meet a single one who knew it as well as you did. but like this I am only a ferryman. Let's rest now. or perhaps you know it already." said Siddhartha. that it is good to strive downwards. you've already learned this from the water too. did not add his praise or rebuke. he knew how to listen. and a long silence had occurred. to burry in his heart his own life. Vasudeva?" Vasudeva rose. When they had reached the bank. my friend. four or five. "let's go to sleep. it was almost the time of the sunset. with his eyes closed. Siddhartha sat and watched him. See. the ferryman asked him to enter the hut. I have no special skill in speaking. Afterwards. I have transported many. all that searching. See. That is good. for listening to me so well! These people are rare who know how to listen. The river has taught me to listen. Without him having spoken a word. the learned Brahman Siddhartha becomes a ferryman: this has also been told to you by the river. to confess to such a listener. Vasudeva offered him. waiting. and remembered. and for weddings. Gratefully. that is very good. "I thank you and accept." . love for this man had stirred in his heart. a few. and it is my task to ferry people across the river. after this. my river has been nothing but an obstacle on their travels. his own suffering. with brawny arms. from it you will learn it as well. on that last day of his time as a Samana. I can't tell you that other thing." They had reached the middle of the river. to seek depth. and Siddhartha ate with eager pleasure. what a happy fortune it is. I have lived alone. his own search. They travelled to seek money and business. how once before. they sat on a log by the bank. "It is late. All I'm able to do is to listen and to be godly. and to all of them. I used to have a wife. I might be a wise man." he said.

he was taught by the river. just as shining out of thousand small wrinkles." said Siddhartha. and his death and his return to Brahma was no future. at the source and at the mouth. when you succeed in hearing all of its ten thousand voices at once?" Happily. Siddhartha succeeded in persuading him to speak. plucked the fruit off the banana-trees. in the sea. became almost just as bright. he bent over to Siddhartha and spoke the holy Om into his ear. Also. "did you too learn that secret from the river: that there is no time?" Vasudeva's face was filled with a bright smile. not by something real." "And do you know. everything hostile in the world gone and overcome as soon as one had overcome time." so he asked him at one time. not the shadow of the future?" "This it is. Siddhartha. were not all forms of tormenting oneself and being afraid time. to pay close attention with a quiet heart. And it happened from time to time that both. "Did you. he had spoken. and a thousand other voices more?" "So it is. and the boy Siddhartha was only separated from the man Siddhartha and from the old man Siddhartha by a shadow. with a waiting. And once again. as soon as time would have been put out of existence by one's thoughts? In ecstatic delight. But more than Vasudeva could teach him. of what is eternally taking shape. not the shadow of the past. silently he nodded. Incessantly. opened soul. and of a woman giving birth. and was joyful because of everything he learned. was not all suffering time. thought they were brothers. and when there was nothing to do at the ferry. "Yes. Many travellers. And this had been the very thing which Siddhartha had also been hearing. and of a bull." he spoke. I looked at my life. without a wish. then said Siddhartha: "Isn't it so. and of a sighing man. In a friendly manner. he learned from it to listen. Most of all. brushed his hand over Siddhartha's shoulder. in the mountains. nothing will be. seeing the two ferrymen. "all voices of the creatures are in its voice. at the waterfall. gathered wood. few and at length thought about words. thought of the same things. almost just as throughly glowing with bliss. Oh. just as alike to an old man's. and occasionally they exchanged some words. of a conversation from the day before yesterday. without judgement. Often. isn't it: that the river is everywhere at once. and it was also a river. he learned from it. this enlightenment had delighted him. just as alike to a child's. when listening to the river. everything is. without an opinion." Vasudeva nodded. was not everything hard." Siddhartha spoke with ecstasy. he worked with Vasudeva in the rice-field. and of a bird of the night. but Vasudeva smiled at him brightly and nodded in confirmation. rarely. and learned to mend the boat. very many voices? Hasn't it the voice of a king. "what word it speaks. Nothing was. they sat in the evening together by the bank on the log. said nothing and both listened to the water. but the voice of life.Siddhartha 40 Siddhartha stayed with the ferryman and learned to operate the boat. the voice of what exists. Vasudeva was no friend of words. his smile became more similar to the ferryman's. at the ferry. at the rapids. oh friend. and that there is only the present time for it. and the days and months passed quickly. which was no water to them. and to weave baskets. deeply. everywhere at once. And time after time. when the river had just increased its flow in the rainy season and made a powerful noise. of one of their travellers. the river has many voices. he lived side by side with Vasudeva. "And when I had learned it. without passion. everything has existence and is present. the face and fate of whom had occupied . and of a warrior." Siddhartha continued. turned back to his work. He learned to build an oar. "It is this what you mean. Vasudeva's face was smiling. Siddhartha's previous births were no past.

both delighted about the same answer to the same question. proud and precocious words. Together with Siddhartha the boy. saw his path to perfection before his eyes. He did not comprehend why he had to to go on this exhausting and sad pilgrimage with his mother. when they are going to war or to the coronation of a king. for the news had spread the exalted one was deadly sick and would soon die his last human death. The years passed by. after having looked at the face of one of the ferrymen. was among the friends and benefactors of the pilgrims. whose voice had admonished nations and had awoken hundreds of thousands. to where the great Buddha was awaiting his death. with a smile. confessed evil things. followers of Gotama. who used to be the most beautiful of the courtesans. she had retired from her previous life. With her little son. became disobedient and started whining. could accept. monks came by on a pilgrimage. her son. at one time. he remembered them. she was travelling by the river. said to him. and by them the ferrymen were told that they were most hurriedly walking back to their great teacher. when the river had been saying something good to them. had also become tired. It also happened that curious people came. and remembered with a smile those words which he had once. the Buddha. And the curious people laughed and were discussing how foolishly and gullibly the common people were spreading such empty rumours. who was holy and about to die. she had to feed him. so it seemed to him. every path. when so many went on a pilgrimage to the dying Buddha.Siddhartha 41 their thoughts. where the huge event was to take place and the great perfected one of an era was to become one with the glory. she had gone on her way due to the news of the near death of Gotama. The curious people asked many questions. had taken her refuge in the teachings. had to scold him. both thinking precisely the same thing. like being drawn on by a magic spell. when little Siddhartha once again forced his mother to rest. It happened occasionally that a traveller. closed her eyes a bit. who had been told that there were two wise men. On one of these days. or holy men living by that ferry. Then. though he was still unable to accept his teachings. thus they flocked. who breathed what is divine. desired to eat. there was nothing standing between him and all the other thousand any more who lived in that what is eternal. It happened occasionally that someone asked for permission to stay for a night with them to listen to the river. the exalted one. they only found two friendly little old men. the great teacher. and another one. Kamala often had to take a rest with him. and the monks as well as most of the other travellers and people walking through the land spoke of nothing else than of Gotama and his impending death. There was something about this ferry and the two ferrymen which was transmitted to others. told about pains. or sorcerers. the boy . and they found neither sorcerers nor wise men. And as people are flocking from everywhere and from all sides. who were asking to be ferried across the river. No. Kamala herself. of death. whose voice he had also once heard. But he who had found. he was accustomed to having his way against her. and while the boy was chewing a banana. They had been. every goal. and nobody counted them. Often. as a young man. But suddenly. had given her garden to the monks of Gotama as a gift. Kindly. which many of the travellers felt. and rested. someone who truly wanted to find. she crouched down on the ground. looked at each other. Siddhartha thought in those days of the dying wise man. whose holy face he had also once seen with respect. who seemed to be mute and to have become a bit strange and gaga. in simple clothes. asked for comfort and advice. So what if he died. in order to become one with the salvation. on foot. had to comfort him. there was no teaching a truly searching person. and that they both in the same moment. desired to go back home. but the boy had soon grown tired. he thought of him. started to tell the story of his life. It was not long. but they got no answers. desired to rest. how did this concern the boy? The pilgrims were getting close to Vasudeva's ferry. until a new flock of monks came along on their pilgrimage. of their childhood. to an unknown place. She. he could approve of any teachings. Kamala also went to him. to a stranger. and are gathering like ants in droves. A long time ago. she uttered a wailing scream. For a long time he knew that there was nothing standing between Gotama and him any more.

though she lay unconscious in the ferryman's arms. "He's with you. Alas. over his friendly face ran the light of the stove's fire. I have also grown old. But the boy started crying miserably. but had already turned black and her body was swollen. Kamala felt it. Quickly. By what do I still recognise that you're Siddhartha? It's you. Kamala's wound was washed. whom he instantly recognised. to me into the garden. and she also joined his loud screams for help. Quietly. until the sound reached Vasudeva's ears. I recognised you. the boy became calm. She spoke with a heavy tongue. whose face had been such a warning reminder to him. In the eyes. realized her situation. he came walking. But you are like the young Samana. with dusty feet." Siddhartha said nothing. and at the sight of the child's face. which he returned with a smile. and was not able to go any further. the words came flowing to him. were Siddhartha stood by the stove and was just lighting the fire." she said. called timidly for the boy. she said: "Now I see that your eyes have changed as well." said Siddhartha. who used to love her so much. in order to reach people." Siddhartha said quietly. remembered the bite. Slowly. and now he knew that it was his own son. and the heart stirred in his chest. and from under her dress. paralysed by the poison. his mind becoming one with her suffering. "She'll die. and got near to the ferry. like a warning to remember something he had forgotten. waiting. Then he saw Kamala. my dear. "you've become gray. Siddhartha took him on his knees. The boy wept. Her consciousness returned. "You've become old. Looking at him. He looked up and first saw the boy's face. quietly his eyes looked at hers. They've become completely different. attentively. she looked at her friend's face. he read it. Siddhartha placed him on Vasudeva's bed. she was made to drink a healing potion. "You have found peace?" . let him weep. only interrupting it to kiss and hug his mother. the boy ran along. they now both ran along the path. and soon they all reached the hut. he started to speak. you're like him. there Kamala collapsed. You are much more like him. took the woman on his arms. And with that singsong. on her pale cheeks. when he had been a little boy himself.Siddhartha 42 looked at her in fear and saw her face having grown pale from horror. her gaze sought his eyes. Kamala. which he had learned a long time ago. black snake fled. Kamala looked into his eyes." Her eyes became confused and fell shut. Hurriedly. old--could you still recognise me?" Siddhartha smiled: "Instantly. It seemed like a dream to her. who at one time came without clothes. my dear. who stood at the ferry. a small. than you were like him at that time when you had left me and Kamaswami. Siddhartha. just slowly she. and it's not you. Vasudeva nodded. don't worry. Pain distorted her face. a Brahman prayer came to his mind. carried her into the boat. which wondrously reminded him of something. Kamala returned to consciousness. with a smile. Siddhartha gave him a look. she lay on Siddhartha's bed in the hut and bent over her stood Siddhartha. with a singing voice. by which Kamala had been bitten. Once again. Vasudeva stood by the stove and cooked rice. Siddhartha's eyes read the suffering on her mouth. petted his hair. was only now and then uttering a sob and fell asleep. from his past and childhood." Kamala pointed to her boy and said: "Did you recognise him as well? He is your son. "You have achieved it?" she asked.

the boy had attended his mother's funeral." "You have found it. in order to see the face of the perfected one. who have been rich and happy. tired mouth. the eternity of every moment. and that it was good. he sat for many days by the hill of the dead. saw his own face lying in the same manner. Siddhartha. and Vasudeva lay himself down to sleep. with those lips. Vasudeva came out of the stable and walked over to his friend. She wanted to tell this to him. in the tired wrinkles. which wanted to take. "You haven't slept. and the feeling of this both being present and at the same time real. "No. gave no open look. with fiery eyes. But occasionally. when the final shiver ran through her limbs. surrounded by the past. he observed her mouth. even before the sun could be seen. and saw at the same time his face and hers being young. My son has been given to me. there is much to be done. who greeted him as his son and welcomed him at his place in Vasudeva's hut. 43 Kamala never stopped looking into his eyes. For a long time. just as quenched out. Deeply he felt. gloomy and shy. touched and encircled by all times of his life at the same time. stepped to the door of the hut and listened. Early in the morning. In the stable. with the thought of oneness." While the boy was still asleep. Without speaking. but I see: no sadness has entered your heart. met his fate with resistance .Siddhartha He smiled and placed his hand on hers. read in the pale face. the two old men prepared beds of straw for themselves. that he used to. her old. THE SON Timid and weeping." "No. Let us also build Kamala's funeral pile on the same hill on which I had then built my wife's funeral pile. whether the boy was sleeping. the feeling of eternity. When the final pain filled her eyes and made them grow dim. deeply it has filled me with the healing thought. and he saw the life fading from her eyes." he said. But Siddhartha went outside and sat this night before the hut. have become even richer and happier now. did not want to eat. But Siddhartha did not eat. he sat and looked at her peacefully dead face. how should I be sad? I. on which my wife had died a long time ago. let's get to work. "I'm seeing it. I sat here. my dear. For a long time. Pale. She thought about her pilgrimage to Gotama. But now. with red lips. which had become thin." Siddhartha spoke in a whisper. to breathe his peace. and she thought that she had now found him in his place. he had listened to Siddhartha. in the spring of his years. filled himself with this sight. I was listening to the river. just as good. Vasudeva. where their goat stood. she looked at him. his finger closed her eyelids. just as white. he rose. I too will find peace. Siddhartha. the indestructibility of every life. more deeply than ever before. Vasudeva had prepared rice for him. but the tongue no longer obeyed her will. A lot it has told me. compare this mouth with a freshly cracked fig." "You've experienced suffering. did not open his heart. For a long time. "I'm seeing it. When he rose. completely filled every aspect of his being. and he remembered. listening to the river." she said. as if she had seen the other one. Kamala has died on the same bed. he sat." "Your son shall be welcome to me as well. they built the funeral pile. in this hour.

Siddhartha and denial. with love and with friendly patience I intent to capture it. a mother's boy. watching. then Siddhartha began to understand that his son had not brought him happiness and peace. I'm seeking to win his heart. "Give me some more time. did not pay his respect to the old men. Your son. Siddhartha looked into his friendly face. for long months. waited and said nothing. but suffering and worry. He did not force him. love stronger than force. Vasudeva had again taken on the job of the ferryman all by himself. do much injustice. to accept his love. and he is also worrying me. Very good. ran away from riches and the city." he said. and Siddhartha. "from a friendly heart. what path to take. But the river laughs. many times I have asked it. he hoped to win him over. One day. know what he is called upon to do. to a soft bed. when the boy had come to him. people like this have to suffer a lot. Vasudeva waited. in order to be with his son. Rich and happy. my dear! See. he honoured his mourning. because you know that "soft" is stronger than "hard". that he could not love him like a father. and don't you make it even harder on him with your . what pain to endure? Not a small one. Slowly. when Siddhartha the younger had once again tormented his father very much with spite and an unsteadiness in his wishes and had broken both of his rice-bowls. Since time had passed on in the meantime. I'm fighting for him. Water wants to join water. For long months. You don't force him. being disgusted and fed up with it. did the work in the hut and the field. One day. he had called himself. always picked the best piece of the meal for him. my dear: you're not taking control of your son's upbringing? You don't force him? You don't beat him? You don't punish him?" "No. wouldn't punish him? Don't you shackle him with your love? Don't you make him feel inferior every day. and is shaking with laughter at out foolishness. to perhaps reciprocate it. by friendly patience. to a different nest. burden themselves with much sin. is worrying you. I praise you. Water stronger than rocks. you and me. you too should listen to it!" Troubled. what actions to perform. it laughs at you and me. But aren't you mistaken in thinking that you wouldn't force him. accustomed to giving orders to servants. he too is of the eternal life. "How could I part with him?" he said quietly. stole from Vasudeva's fruit-trees. Slowly. he too is called upon. I'm talking to you. he did many a chore for him." "I knew it. "Oh yes. it laughs at me. don't beat him. ashamed. your son is not in the place where he can prosper. in the many wrinkles of which there was incessant cheerfulness. You too should ask the river. I don't do anything of this. don't give him orders. Siddhartha understood that his son did not know him. the old men had split the work. he had to leave all this behind. Siddhartha waited for his son to understand him. He has not. he also saw and understood that the eleven-year-old was a pampered boy. Vasudeva. For a long time. the river shall also talk to him. Tell me. Since young Siddhartha was in the hut. he also is called upon. my dear. Vasudeva took in the evening his friend aside and talked to him. I asked the river. "Pardon me. 44 Siddhartha spared him and let him do as he pleased. did not want to do any work. and he preferred the suffering and worries of love over happiness and joy without the boy. err a lot." Vasudeva's smile flourished more warmly. Siddhartha understood that the mourning. since he displayed a proud and stubbornly disobedient heart. after all. his pain will be. and the boy remained a stranger and in a gloomy disposition. youth wants to join youth. oh friend. against his will. accustomed to finer food. But he loved him. like you. his heart is proud and hard. I'm seeing that you are tormenting yourself. and that he had grown up in the habits of rich people. But do we. pampered child could not suddenly and willingly be content with a life among strangers and in poverty. That young bird is accustomed to a different life. I'm seeing that you're in grief.

suffered from it. . loving another person. not for the teachings' sake. stronger than the knowledge was his love for the boy. from foolishness? Were his father's religious devotion. But this was a knowledge he could not act upon. "You cannot love. now he. he touched Siddhartha's arm and said: "Ask the river about it. his own knowledge. to commit foolish acts for the love of another person. Quietly. isn't he punished by all this?" Troubled. Siddhartha. his teachers warnings. thus unsuccessfully. He let the boy give him orders. in the days of their youth. having become a fool on account of love. he had never been able to lose or devote himself completely to another person. that story containing so many lessons. never he had been able to do this. daily. the ferryman's smile lit up. Vasudeva also said nothing and waited. my friend! Hear it laugh about it! Would you actually believe that you had committed your foolish acts in order to spare your son from committing them too? And could you in any way protect your son from Sansara? How could you? By means of teachings. bring him to a teacher. you would not be able to take the slightest part of his destiny upon yourself. he let him disregard him." Never before. and in the world which is his own. give him to them. and was nevertheless in bliss. "Often. late. Have you never thought of this?" "You're seeing into my heart. bring him into his mother's house. from sin. He said nothing and waited. admonition? My dear. there'll still be servants around. Had he ever lost his heart so much to something. have you entirely forgotten that story. to whom even rice is a delicacy. since his son was here. Vasudeva had told him nothing. anybody might perhaps be spared from taking this path? That perhaps your little son would be spared. from drinking the bitter drink for himself. friendly. a Brahman's son. suffered miserably. had also become completely a childlike person. he had not already thought and known for himself. and nevertheless he had also sensed an accusation in that line. the arrogant and pampered boy. Now he too felt. that story about Siddhartha. because you would like to keep him from suffering and pain and disappointment? But even if you would die ten times for him. he began the mute struggle of friendliness. suffering for the sake of another person. thus blindly. he asked: "What do you think should I do?" 45 Quoth Vasudeva: "Bring him into the city. and among girls. could not sleep for a long time. from finding his path for himself? Would you think. Siddhartha thanked him. as it had seemed to him at that time. was nevertheless renewed in one respect. patient. but so that he shall be among other boys. the silent war of patience. which teacher had been able to protect him from living his life for himself. I have thought of this. Kindly. lost to a love. his own search able to keep him safe? Which father. But now. when the boy's face reminded him very much of Kamala. won't he perhaps get entirely lost in Sansara?" Brightly. softly. once in his lifetime. went troubled into the hut. from greed. how shall I put him." she had said to him. from soiling himself with life. whose thoughts can't be his. Vasudeva had spoken so many words. which you once told me here on this very spot? Who has kept the Samana Siddhartha safe from Sansara. and this was. And when there aren't any around any more. won't he repeat all of his father's mistakes. had he ever loved any person thus. won't he lose himself to pleasure and power. thus sufferingly. stronger was his tenderness. Siddhartha suddenly had to think of a line which Kamala a long time ago. enriched by one thing. had once said to him. to forget himself. At one time. while comparing the childlike people with falling leaves. Siddhartha looked to the ground. to live in a hut with two old banana-eaters. the great distinction which set him apart from the childlike people. this strongest and strangest of all passions. he could not give up the boy. his fear to lose him. and yet thus happily? Siddhartha could not heed his friend's advice. from burdening himself with guilt. knowing. whose hearts are old and quiet and beats in a different pace than his? Isn't forced. and he had agreed with her and had compared himself with a star. into this world? Won't he become exuberant. who had no tender heart anyhow.Siddhartha kindness and patience? Don't you force him. prayer." Siddhartha spoke sadly. because you love him. my dear. Indeed. But look. They were both masters of patience.

let him humiliate himself every day by giving in to his moods. and he openly turned against his father. Alas. than to become like you! I hate you. that you won't hit me. Then the boy ran away and only returned late at night. the son let him commit his foolish acts.Siddhartha 46 He did sense very well that this love. this very thing was the hated trick of this old sneak. "I'm not your servant." "We will build a raft. Nevertheless. drifted far off their course. came from the essence of his own being. "Get the brushwood for yourself!" he shouted foaming at the mouth. this blind love for his son. The latter had given him a task. and he is right. You want me to become like you. This father had nothing which would have delighted him and nothing which he would have feared. he had told him to gather brushwood. He's doing what you've failed to do yourself. Much more the boy would have liked it if he had been threatened by him. he knows how to get around. and if you've ten times been my mother's fornicator!" Rage and grief boiled over in him. a good. He'll perish. foamed at the father in a hundred savage and evil words. I do know. We must build a raft. was a passion. he had disappeared. Vasudeva. you're not my father. woven out of bast of two colours. he's taking his course. my friend. to get over the water. But the next morning. but you're suffering a pain at which one would like to laugh. thumped on the ground with his feet. he was bored by him. just as soft. all these there no attributes which could win the boy over. Vasudeva said: "It might have been possible that the oar of our boat got lost. "Why did you take the axe along?" asked Siddhartha. in stubborn disobedience and rage he stayed where he was. and for him to answer every naughtiness with a smile. something very human. who kept him prisoner here in this miserable hut of his. he felt at the same time. if he had been abused by him. kind. I rather want to become a highway-robber and murderer. and screamed in a powerful outburst his hatred and contempt into his father's face." But Siddhartha knew what his friend was thinking." said Siddhartha. he is no child any more. don't forget that. He was a good man. this pain also had to be endured. I see you suffering. This pleasure also had to be atoned for. He's taking care of himself. and go to hell. But the boy did not leave the hut. who had been shivering with grief since those ranting speeches. He's looking for the path to the city. The boat had also disappeared. The boy had ran away. the boy had made yesterday. Through all this. He was bored by this father. every viciousness with kindness. you don't dare. that you constantly want to punish me and put me down with your religious devotion and your indulgence. just to make you suffer. every insult with friendliness." said Vasudeva. perhaps a saint. listen up. it was not worthless. the boy would have thrown away or broken . Siddhartha. dark waters. which the boy has taken away. "A child can't go through the forest all alone. He already held the axe in his hands and began to make a raft of bamboo." Siddhartha did not answer. this father. it was necessary. that it was Sansara. you shall let run along. But him. just as devout. at which you'll soon laugh for yourself. "I must follow him. What had also disappeared was a small basket. in which the ferrymen kept those copper and silver coins which they received as a fare. let him court for his affection. soft man. and Vasudeva helped him to tied the canes together with ropes of grass. Then they crossed over. pulled the raft upriver on the opposite bank. clenched his fists. He thought. "to get our boat back. A day came. a murky source. just as wise! But I. I do know. when what young Siddhartha had on his mind came bursting forth. these foolish acts also had to be committed. perhaps a very devout man. Siddhartha saw it lying by the opposite bank.

fell into emptiness. he felt the love for the run-away in his heart. neither one mentioned the boy's name. Many an hour he crouched. was once again old and tired. he recognised this touch. breathed Sansara. that he was not allowed to cling him. And he sat and listened. Instead of the desired goal. he stood there. After having been standing by the gate of the garden for a long time. on his part. young. one of them came to him and placed two bananas in front of him. As he continued thinking. without seeing a path. beating tiredly and sadly. which were as if they were filled with nothing but his smile. by the entrance of the beautiful pleasure-garden. the musicians. waited for a voice. again he saw himself standing there. listening to the story of his life. returned home to the ferry. In the hut. Vasudeva did not stop him. Vasudeva pointed to the bottom of the boat and looked at his friend with a smile. lived through all this once again. But Siddhartha bid his farewell. naked Samana. saw young Siddhartha in their place. then he smiled too. that he could not help his son. listened to his heart. if he should still be on his way. After this. neither one spoke about the wound. beginning proudly and full of desire his worldly life. When.Siddhartha 47 the oar in order to get even and in order to keep them from following him. For a long time. Neither one talked about what had happened today. was once again healed by the holy Om. Now he saw the bananas lying in front of him. or. seeing monks in yellow robes walking among the beautiful trees. felt something dying in his heart. and he felt at the same time that this wound had not been given to him in order to turn the knife in it. into the happy eyes. neither one spoke about him running away. and dust was gathering on his gray hair. near the city. the gamblers with the dice. saw young Kamala walking among the high trees. he silently went back into the forest with Vasudeva. filled himself with Om. he saw himself being served food and drink by Kamala. like a wound. picked them up. He sat lost in thought and waited. experienced emptiness. When Siddhartha had already been walking through the forest for a long time. Clearly. he stopped. let himself fall. And when he looked into Vasudeva's friendly face. which used to belong to Kamala. so he thought. to look for the run-away. this tender. listening attentively. He saw Kamaswami. Instantly. the hair full of dust. in the dust of the road. Nevertheless. looking proudly and disdainfully back on his Brahmanism. to offer . he silently spoke the Om. The old man did not see him. saw no images any more. saw Kamala's song-bird in the cage. he reached a wide road. a bearded. Siddhartha realised that his desire was foolish. seeing images. felt once again the wish to annihilate himself. For a long time. this one thing: waiting. where he had seen her for the first time in her sedan-chair. Sadly. And he ran up to just outside of the city. that he knew deep inside that he had neither perished nor was in any danger in the forest. there was now emptiness. He started making a new oar. which had drawn him here following the runaway son. Deeply. at this hour. listening. the pursuer. That this wound did not blossom yet. Siddhartha lay down on his bed. he also found that he. that it had to become a blossom and had to shine. was not worried for his son. as if he wanted to say: "Don't you see what your son is trying to tell you? Don't you see that he doesn't want to be followed?" But he did not say this in words. he sat down. the thought occurred to him that his search was useless. and when after a while Vasudeva came to him. no longer to save him. did not shine yet. he stood there. The past rose up in his soul. the boy was far ahead and had already reached the city. saw no joy any more. just to satisfy his desire. made him sad. gave one to the ferryman. who had followed him. ate the other one himself. Either. just to perhaps see him one more time. having patience. And when he felt the wound burning. there was no oar left in the boat. He rose and greeted Vasudeva. This he had learned by the river. Siddhartha stood there and looked through the open gate into the garden. receiving his first kiss from her. looked at the monks. he ran without stopping. and regained his senses. into the small wrinkles. The monks in the garden saw him. which had made him go up to this place. felt once again disgust. For a long time. no goal. saw the servants. he was awoken by a hand touching his shoulder. And in fact. and since he crouched for many hours. he would conceal himself from him. the orgies. bashful touch. From this petrified state. pondering.

the stupid. had forced his father to let him go to the penitents. the Brahman. he now looked upon people. a long time ago. conducting wars. And one day. oneness. Slowly this blossomed in him. They lacked nothing. as a young man. in some moments. these people did not seem alien to him as they used to: he understood them. The river laughed. each of their acts. that what is alive. all except for me. but its voice sounded strange: it laughed! It laughed clearly. strongly living. what wisdom actually was. which he now suffered for his son? Had his father not long since died. The blind love of a mother for her child. he bent over the water. whether this knowledge. which reminded him. became understandable. even became worthy of veneration to him. and he saw his face reflected in the quietly moving waters. slowly ripened in Siddhartha the realisation. there was nothing the knowledgeable one. driven by a yearning. the thinker. warriors. but solely by urges and wishes. the thought of oneness. It was nothing but a readiness of the soul. Slowly blossomed. after all. In all other respects. it laughed brightly and clearly at the old ferryman. Many a traveller Siddhartha had to ferry across the river who was accompanied by a son or a daughter. Worthy of love and admiration were these people in their blind loyalty. all of these urges. but instead warmer. Not by itself. suffering infinitely much. he felt like them. all of this childish stuff. something he had forgotten. small thing: the consciousness. were often far superior to them. was shining back at him from Vasudeva's old. saw them achieving infinitely much for their sake. thus similar to the childlike people he had become. and he saw none of them without envying him. to be able to feel and inhale the oneness. he saw life. how he had bed his farewell to him. he found it: this face resembled another face. the worldly people were of equal rank to the wise men. whether it might not also perhaps be a childish idea of the thinking people. Though he was near perfection and was bearing his final wound. And he remembered how he. of the thinking and childlike people. women. more involved. But the wound still burned. he saw people living for their sake. the conscious thought of the oneness of all life. OM For a long time. which was not guided by thoughts and insight. unrelenting performance of what is necessary. what the goal of his long search was. an ability. travelling. their blind strength and tenacity. and in this reflected face there was something. less smart. got off the boat and was willing to go to the city and to look for his son. allowed the pain to gnaw at him. longingly and bitterly Siddhartha thought of his son. and he could love them for it. so many thousands possess this sweetest of good fortunes--why don't I? Even bad people. knowledge of the eternal perfection of the world. it was the dry season. The river flowed softly and quietly. the Brahman in each of their passions. bearing infinitely much. had to put him above them except for one little thing. while living his life. 48 Differently than before." Thus simply. childlike face: harmony. childlike people. seem to be superior to humans in their tough. vain woman for jewelry and admiring glances from men. became lovable. . committed all foolish acts of love. and are being loved by them. blind pride of a conceited father for his only son. tiny. he understood and shared their life. more curious. a secret art. And Siddhartha even doubted in many an hour. when the wound burned violently. strongly prevailing urges and desires were now no childish notions for Siddhartha any more. nurtured his love and tenderness in his heart. Had his father not also suffered the same pain for him. just as animals too can. less proud. in order to hear even better. this flame would go out. to think every moment. It resembled his father's face. and as he thought about it. how he had gone and had never come back. the knowledge. it still seemed to him as if those childlike people were his brothers. the wound continued to burn. Siddhartha stopped. When he ferried travellers of the ordinary kind. desires for possession. he already found him asleep. businessmen. their vanities. foolish. wild desire of a young. Siddhartha ferried across the river. but immensely strong. which he used to know and love and also fear. this thought was to be valued thus highly. the blind. the indestructible. without thinking: "So many. and ridiculous aspects were no longer ridiculous to him. even thieves and robbers have children and love them. thus without reason he now thought. smiling.Siddhartha him a bowl of coconut-milk. all of these simple. a single.

But Siddhartha want back into the boat and ferried back to the hut. that this motionless listener was absorbing his confession into himself like a tree the rain. tending towards despair. you'll hear more. and that this could not last. he started bidding his farewell to Vasudeva. of his futile fight against them. this running around in a fateful circle? 49 The river laughed. it should read "über" instead of "aber". He reported everything. of the burning wound. . that he was God himself. that Vasudeva had already been like this for a long time. the less wondrous it became. everything came back. the same pain was suffered over and over again. "You've heard it laugh.Siddhartha alone. this repetition." They listened. without having seen his son again? Did he not have to expect the same fate for himself? Was it not a comedy. in his heart. "But you haven't heard everything. He no longer used the ferry-boat. until it had cooled and become one with the river. each one heading for his goal. his heart was still fighting his fate. also told how he fled today. Siddhartha felt more and more that this was no longer Vasudeva. Let's listen. He felt. a strange and stupid matter. Yes. longingly it sang. and images appeared to him in the moving water: his father appeared. still admitting and confessing. greedily rushing along the burning course of his young wishes. of his knowledge of the foolishness of such wishes. He took Siddhartha's hand. thinking of his father. which had not been suffered and solved up to its end. the boy. let his silent love and cheerfulness. yes. The river sang with a voice of suffering. shine at him. at that time. spoke for a long time. While he was still speaking. the wound was not blossoming yet. What they had never talked about. to show him everything. laughed at by the river. And while Siddhartha stopped thinking of himself and his wound. He presented his wound. lonely. Nevertheless. Vasudeva turned his friendly eyes. which had grown slightly weak. at odds with himself. that he himself had almost reached the same state. each one suffering. that he was the eternal itself. of his envy at the sight of happy fathers. at him. said nothing. his son appeared. smiled at the river. and the more he felt it and entered into it. While he spoke. sat down with him. Thorough all this. his fears flowed over to him. this realisation of Vasudeva's changed character took possession of him. and once he had returned to the hut. and not less tending towards laughing along at {???} himself and the entire world. {I think. everything shown. he sensed how his pain. Softly sounded the river. he felt an undefeatable desire to open up to Vasudeva. the more he realised that everything was in order and natural. to say everything. To show his wound to this listener was the same as bathing it in the river. each one obsessed by the goal. came back at him from his counterpart. Siddhartha looked into the water. he himself appeared. of his walk to the city. slowly he started talking. how he ferried across the water. thinking of his son. and not just his eyes. a childish run-away. When he had finished talking. so it was. that this motionless man was the river itself. Vasudeva's listening gave Siddhartha a stronger sensation than ever before. his arms and hands as well.} Alas. the master of listening. mourning for his son. that only he had not quite recognised it. his eyes were starting to get weak. willing to walk to the city. no longer a human being. cheerfulness and victory were not yet shining from his suffering. led him to the seat by the bank. how his secret hope flowed over. while Vasudeva was listening with a quiet face. Vasudeva was sitting in the hut and weaving a basket. he also being tied with the bondage of yearning to his distant son. everything could be said. he now told him of. even the most embarrassing parts. Unchanged and flourishing was only the joy and the cheerful benevolence of his face. Siddhartha sat down next to the old man. understanding and knowledge. he felt hope. he was able to say everything." he said. how the river had laughed. who was listening to him. he talked incessantly. almost forever. lonely as well. everything he could tell. that he was now seeing old Vasudeva as the people see the gods. lonely. singing in many voices.

not the happy ones from the weeping ones. and other images. Farewell. his suffering was shining. the river was heading. when he looked at his friend. which knows perfection. longing. And everything together. my dear. Brightly his smile was shining. belonging to the oneness. stopped suffering. searching. hut. 50 Siddhartha made an effort to listen better. flowed on once again. everything was one. all suffering. He was now nothing but a listener. this song of a thousand voices. But the longing voice had changed. "Do you hear?" Vasudeva's mute gaze asked. I've been Vasudeva the ferryman. farewell. good and bad voices. and all goals were reached. all that was good and evil. and the water turned into vapour and rose to the sky. voices of joy and of suffering. And when Siddhartha was listening attentively to this river. It still resounded. all pleasure. completely empty. his self had flown into the oneness. which consisted of him and his loved ones and of all people. Siddhartha listened. with the current of life. farewell. the lamentation of yearning and the laughter of the knowledgeable one. today it sounded new. Siddhartha nodded. all voices. the river. full of sympathy for the pleasure of others." Vasudeva's gaze asked again. and every goal was followed by a new one. turned into rain and poured down from the sky. the sea. For the goal. which is in agreement with the flow of events. many goals. everything was intertwined and connected. I've been waiting for this hour. but other voices joined it. suffering. Now that it has come. all goals. then the great song of the thousand voices consisted of a single word. but when he heard them all. and brightly the same smile was now starting to shine on Siddhartha's face as well. when he looked into Siddhartha's eyes and saw the cheerfulness of the knowledge shining in them. "Do you hear. Brightly. suffering. lamentingly its voice sang. and said: "I've been waiting for this hour. Already. a stream. headed all. turned all into the river. not the ones of children from those of men. and the river's voice sounded full of yearning. turned into a source. the lake. floating radiantly over all the wrinkles of his old face. being the river. in this careful and tender manner. perceived the whole.Siddhartha longingly. completely concentrated on listening. full of sympathy for the pain of others. Kamala's image also appeared and was dispersed. all of these waves and waters were hurrying. for the goal. let me leave. the oneness. Now it's enough. he could no longer tell the many voices apart. for a long time. When Vasudeva rose from the seat by the bank. full of suffering. which was Om: the perfection. the scream of rage and the moaning of the dying ones. Siddhartha stopped fighting his fate. full of unsatisfiable desire. laughing and sad ones. In this hour. Siddhartha!" Siddhartha made a deep bow before him who bid his farewell. when he did not tie his soul to any particular voice and submerged his self into it. Vasudeva's smile was shining. all of this together was the world. that he had now finished learning to listen. devoted to the flow. The image of his father. he had heard all this. and they merged with each other. a thousand voices. All of it together was the flow of events. they all belonged together. His wound blossomed. and the image of Govinda. On his face flourished the cheerfulness of a knowledge. headed forward once again. his own image. these many voices in the river. a hundred voices. when he neither listened to the suffering nor the laughter. he softly touched his shoulder with his hand. "Listen better!" Vasudeva whispered. he felt. the image of his son merged. a river. towards goals. the rapids. . river. it flowed towards its goal. Often before. he had ever seen. was the music of life. as the Om was floating in the air over all the voices of the river. full of burning woe. all yearning. Siddhartha saw it hurrying. which is no longer opposed by any will. the waterfall. For a long time. desiring. entangled a thousand times.

"then it might easily happen that the only thing his eyes still see is that what he searches for. you've once before been at this river and have found a sleeping man by the river.--And so you've now become a ferryman?" . from my heart. I'm greeting you. You. But. oh venerable one. he chose the path to the ferry. have been searching. He heard talk of an old ferryman. You too. "I wouldn't have recognised you this time as well! From my heart. a searcher for the right path?" Quoth Siddhartha." spoke Govinda. GOVINDA Together with other monks. "but I haven't stopped searching. the restlessness and the searching still had not perished from his heart. Siddhartha. as if he had been the object of a magic spell. oh venerable one. that he is unable to find anything. But finding means: being free. When Govinda went back on his way. the monk looked into the ferryman's eyes. Aren't you too. though he was also looked upon with veneration by the younger monks on account of his age and his modesty. he left." said Siddhartha. though you are already of an old in years and are wearing the robe of Gotama's monks?" "It's true. striving for your goal. because he has a goal. there are many things you don't see. which the courtesan Kamala had given to the followers of Gotama for a gift. Searching means: having a goal. who lived one day's journey away by the river. "what do you mean by this?" Quoth Siddhartha: "A long time ago. eager to see the ferryman. being open." asked Govinda. I'm happy to see you once again! You've changed a lot. because. because he is obsessed by the goal." he said quietly. having no goal. my friend. "Are you Siddhartha?" he asked with a timid voice. Would you like to tell me something. many years ago. this seems to be my destiny. With deep joy. though he had lived his entire life by the rules. "You'll go into the forests?" "I'm going into the forests. Siddhartha watched him leaving. Govinda used to spend the time of rest between pilgrimages in the pleasure-grove. and have sat down with him to guard his sleep. ferryman. which are directly in front of your eyes. you don't find the time for finding?" "How come?" asked Govinda. you did not recognise the sleeping man. and who was regarded as a wise man by many. I'm going into the oneness. and when they got off the boat on the other side. saw his body full of light.Siddhartha "I've known it. oh venerable one. I'm old. 51 With a bright smile." spoke Vasudeva with a bright smile. Because. oh Govinda. because he always thinks of nothing but the object of his search." "I don't quite understand yet. to let anything enter his mind. he said to the old man: "You're very good to us monks and pilgrims. saw his head full of lustre. are perhaps indeed a searcher." Astonished. with deep solemnity he watched him leave. Never I'll stop searching. so it seems to me. He came to the river and asked the old man to ferry him over. you have already ferried many of us across the river. oh honourable one?" Quoth Siddhartha: "What should I possibly have to tell you. saw his steps full of peace. "When someone is searching. oh venerable one? Perhaps that you're searching far too much? That in all that searching. smiling from his old eyes: "Do you call yourself a searcher.

is never one-sided. but not wisdom." "How come?" asked Govinda timidly. in those days when we lived with the penitents in the forest. It cannot be done differently. he sat with me when I had fallen asleep in the forest. which you'll again regard as a joke or foolishness. It does really seem like this. oneness. and some gamblers with dice. Siddhartha laughed. very grateful. but it would be hard for me to convey them to you. Govinda said. Once. have to wear many a robe. which I am and which you are. There have been many thoughts. "I'm not kidding. started to distrust teachers and teachings and to turn my back to them. Govinda. Govinda. Look. and insight. between suffering and blissfulness. but which is my best thought. yes. into deception and truth. that I already as a young man. When in the next morning the time had come to start the day's journey. a saint." Quoth Siddhartha: "I've had thoughts. Govinda. Many questions he posed to the friend of his youth. a person is never entirely holy or entirely sinful. which are your own and which help you to live? If you would like to tell me some of these. these words: "Before I'll continue on my path." Govinda stayed the night in the hut and slept on the bed which used to be Vasudeva's bed. he was no thinker. "Listen well. many things Siddhartha had to tell him from his life. Do you have a teaching? Do you have a faith." "Are you kidding?" asked Govinda. again and again. It says: The opposite of every truth is just as true! That's like this: any truth can only be expressed and put into words when it is one-sided. But haven't you found something by yourself. Govinda. is also a deception. Many people. you follow. as one would feel life in one's heart. travelling on foot. certain insights. A beautiful courtesan has been my teacher for a long time. I have experienced this often and often again. as it seems to me. on the pilgrimage. the ferryman Vasudeva. you still found certain thoughts. I'm telling you what I've found. what has driven me away from the teachers. But the world itself. all just one half. which helps you to live and to do right?" Quoth Siddhartha: "You know. I'm also grateful to him. into suffering and salvation. as if time was something real. Time is not real. I've also learned from him. there is no other way for him who wants to teach. sometimes suspected. have to change a lot. roundness. has been my teacher. it is possible to be carried by it. you love a bit to mock people. is a sinner. he had to divide it into Sansara and Nirvana. Everything is one-sided which can be thought with thoughts and said with words. not without hesitation. A person or an act is never entirely Sansara or entirely Nirvana. you would delight my heart. my dear. I have had many teachers since then. and spend the night in my hut. listen well! The sinner. I have found a thought. even a follower of Buddha. or a knowledge. I am one of those. He was a very simple person. It can be found. though you've found no teachings. Nevertheless. because we are subject to deception. When the exalted Gotama spoke in his teachings of the world. he was a perfect man. my dear. This was what I. it can be lived. Be welcome. yes. permit me to ask one more question. and a rich merchant was my teacher. even as a young man. I have learned here from this river and from my predecessor. but he knew what is necessary just as well as Gotama. all lacks completeness. for an hour or for an entire day. this is one of my thoughts. I believe in you and know that you haven't followed a teacher. which I have found: wisdom cannot be passed on. Sometimes. then the gap which seems to be between the world and the eternity. my dear. what exists around us and inside of us. "A ferryman." Govinda said: "Still. between evil and good. And if time is not real. oh Siddhartha. Wisdom which a wise man tries to pass on to someone always sounds like foolishness. it's all one-sided. but it cannot be expressed in words and taught. Vasudeva.Siddhartha 52 In a friendly manner. my dear Govinda. But most of all. Knowledge can be conveyed. I have stuck with this. Siddhartha. I have felt knowledge in me. but in times to come . miracles can be performed with it.

I do not venerate and love it because it could turn into this or that. in everyone the Buddha which is coming into being. the desire for possessions. each one is Brahman. "is a stone. There are stones which feel like oil or soap. vanity. in order to learn how to give up all resistance. all dying people the eternal life. that it is a stone. others like sand. and I like it a lot. But today I think: this stone is a stone. are mere words. to be unable to ever harm me. wisdom like foolishness. everything has to be as it is. Sansara and Nirvana as well. to see all life which was. in the gray. and weighed it in his hand. The world. in the sound it makes when I knock at it. and the river. some kind of perfection I had made up.--But let me speak no more of this. after a certain time. it is also animal. my loving agreement. and also a tree or a piece of bark. within the sinner is now and today already the future Buddha. is oily or juicy. are some of the thoughts which have come into my mind. it belongs to the world of the Maja. my friend. No. I see whatever exists as good. but because it might be able to become also a human being and a spirit in the cycle of transformations. to do nothing but work for my benefit. I also very much agree with this. in the dryness or wetness of its surface. that it appears to me now and today as a stone." Siddhartha bent down. perhaps turn into soil. There is no thing which would be Nirvana. all sin already carries the divine forgiveness in itself. "This here. sin like holiness. it is worthless. perhaps it are the many words. the Buddha is waiting. no colours. This are things. Thus. Govinda. it is perfect in every moment. everything is Brahman. the hidden Buddha. and this is also very good. Perhaps it are these which keep you from finding peace.and it is this very fact. is not imperfect. everything always becomes a bit different. they have nothing but words. In deep meditation. in the robber and dice-gambler. all small children already have the old person in themselves. I needed lust. and will. that love this very stone. everything only requires my consent. no softness. all infants already have death. is. and will turn from soil into a plant or animal or human being. and every one is special and prays the Om in its own way. I would perhaps have thought in the past. that this what is one man's treasure and wisdom always sounds like foolishness to another person. It is not possible for any person to see how far another one has already progressed on his path. The words are not good for the secret meaning." Govinda listened silently. but to leave it as it is and to love it and to enjoy being a part of it." he said playing with it. no taste. in you. and there everything is good. I have experienced on my body and on my soul that I needed sin very much. picked up a stone from the ground. and others like leaves. in the Brahman. and all these things we are looking at and from which we can learn." Quoth Govinda: "Not just a word. my friend Govinda. I imagined. and this is this very fact which I like and regard as wonderful and worthy of worship. in the yellow. it is also Buddha. no edges. or on a slow path towards perfection: no." . he is not in the process of developing. there is the possibility to put time out of existence. it is also god. and things can be loved. as soon as it is put into words. are only a parable! The sinner is not on his way to become a Buddha. oh Govinda. this is why I love it and see worth and purpose in each of its veins and cavities. gets distorted a bit. his future is already all there. death is to me like life. In the past. "Why have you told me this about the stone?" he asked hesitantly after a pause. only my willingness. in order to stop comparing it to some world I wished. and needed the most shameful despair. to be good for me. but simultaneously and just as much it is a stone.Siddhartha 53 he will be Brahma again. Therefore. Or perhaps what I meant was. but rather because it is already and always everything-. they have no hardness.--These. the possible. I can love a stone. Therefore. It is a thought. in order to learn how to love the world. teachings are no good for me. though our capacity for thinking does not know how else to picture these things. a bit silly--yes. there is just the word Nirvana. and will be as if it was simultaneous. Because salvation and virtue as well. you have to worship in him. I would have said: This stone is just a stone. will be Buddha--and now see: these "times to come" are a deception. "I did it without any specific intention. in the hardness. everything is perfect. the robber is waiting. therefore I also grant it importance. is Nirvana. he will reach the Nirvana. Govinda. no smell. But I cannot love words.

I distrust in words so much. not to despise it. Never again. more comprehensible. even with your great teacher. Therefore. to despise it. your tree. not to hate it and me. place more importance on his acts and life than on his speeches. without teachers. I also have no high opinion of thoughts. nothing strange. not all have been instantly understandable to me. They are partially strange thoughts. nothing else. every bird. and I wish you to have calm days.are they actually a reality?" "This too. his smile shone golden. he. How should he not know love. or silly is contained in them." Govinda said: "But is that what you call `things'. For this very reason. a holy man. just an image and illusion? Your stone. I prefer the thing over the words. I can love them. after all I would then also be an illusion. out of his gaze and his hand. Deeply he bowed to him who was calmly sitting. But I'm only interested in being able to love the world. your river-. after our exalted Gotama has become one with the Nirvana. for many years he did not know that every wind. tolerance." spoke Siddhartha. every cloud. . he expresses bizarre thoughts. he forbade us to tie our heart in love to earthly things. knew more than you and me. He had noticed that the river's spoke to him. his greeting. clearer. more on the gestures of his hand than his opinions. "I know it. not in his thoughts. Not in his speech. purer. in their meaninglessness. every beetle was just as divine and knows just as much and can teach just as much as the worshipped river. something which has existence? Isn't it just a deception of the Maja. it educated and taught him. out of every part of him shines a purity. shines a cheerfulness and mildness and holiness. without books. my dear: I don't differentiate much between thoughts and words. I must confess to you. a man has been my predecessor and teacher. but not love. who has discovered all elements of human existence in their transitoriness. But when this holy man went into the forests. shines a calmness. I have found to be like this. who has for many years simply believed in the river. I thank you." "This I understand. for telling me some of your thoughts. actually something real. his walk. this contradiction is a deception. for instance. This being as it may. only in his actions. never since then have I met a person of whom I felt: this is a holy man! Only him. and thus they are always like me. May his teachings be strange." "I know it. my words of love are in a contradiction. Let the things be illusions or not. his forehead. while bowing for a farewell: "I thank you." (But secretly he thought to himself: This Siddhartha is a bizarre person. and yet loved people thus much. it might be so. to explain it. And this is now a teaching you will laugh about: love. his smile. He commands benevolence. To thoroughly understand the world." spoke Govinda. which I have seen in no other person since the final death of our exalted teacher. his teachings sound foolish." For a long time. to use a long. So differently sound the exalted one's pure teachings. sympathy. Siddhartha. But different from his thoughts seemed to me Siddhartha's hands and feet. a seeming contradiction with Gotama's words. his skin and his hair. foolish. "But this very thing was discovered by the exalted one to be a deception. to be able to look upon it and me and all beings with love and admiration and great respect. I see his greatness. his eyes.Siddhartha 54 Siddhartha continued: "A thought. the two old men said nothing. clemency. For I cannot deny. to teach them! Even with him. he learned from it. in the dispute about words. only because he had believed in the river. in his life.) As Govinda thought like this. and there was a conflict in his heart. with this we are right in the middle of the thicket of opinions. Govinda. drawn by love. Here on this ferry-boat. the river seemed to be a god to him. laborious life only to help them. "I do not care very much about. To be honest. I know that I am in agreement with Gotama. may his words sound foolish. may be the thing great thinkers do. This is what makes them so dear and worthy of veneration for me: they are like me. for I know. oh Govinda. he once again bowed to Siddhartha." said Siddhartha. this Siddhartha. his breath. Then spoke Govinda. he knew everything. seems to me to be the most important thing of all. I have a better opinion of things. And behold.

" he spoke. Siddhartha saw it and smiled. While his thoughts were still dwelling on Siddhartha's wondrous words. suffering. the exalted one. with fading eyes--he saw the face of a new-born child. each one only transformed. in the same second. floated along and merged with each other. saw Agni--he saw all of these figures and faces in a thousand relationships with one another. It is unlikely for one of us to see the other again in this incarnation. which all came and disappeared. a long sequence. which he. and this mask was Siddhartha's smiling face. many. and the eternal search was visible in his look. of elephants. after under its surface the depth of the thousandfoldness had closed up again. flowed. the face of a dying fish. give me something on my way which I can grasp. quiet smile. this smile of simultaneousness above the thousand births and deaths. red and full of wrinkles. beloved. but yet existing. while even a certain contempt for the words of his friend was fighting in him against an immense love and veneration. destroying it. being enchanted and dissolved in his innermost self. the injury of which tasted sweet. even closer! Very close! Kiss my forehead. a shell or mold or mask of water.Siddhartha 55 "Siddhartha. thousand-fold smile of Gotama. without any time having passed between the one and the other face--and all of these figures and faces rested. precisely as he used to smile. naked in positions and cramps of frenzied love--he saw corpses stretched out. while he was still struggling in vain and with reluctance to think away time. perhaps mocking. and which were still all Siddhartha. all transformations. kneeling and his head being chopped off by the executioner with one blow of his sword--he saw the bodies of men and women. distorted from crying--he saw the face of a murderer. whether the vision had lasted a second or a hundred years. Tell me. eternal not-finding. and yet drawn by great love and expectation. Not knowing any more whether time existed. Govinda stared at his face. "Bent down to me!" he whispered quietly in Govinda's ear. "we have become old men. a Gotama. was always re-born. each one helping the other. with yearning. loving it. the Buddha. he smiled silently. perhaps very benevolently. void-. wise. this happened to him: He no longer saw the face of his friend Siddhartha. a passionately painful confession of transitoriness. motionless. this criminal in bondage. this smile of the mask. a me and a you. and yet all seemed to be there simultaneously. to imagine Nirvana and Sansara as one. with fear." Siddhartha said nothing and looked at him with the ever unchanged. "Bend down to me! Like this. generated themselves. smiled quietly and softly. of bulls. feeling in his innermost self as if he had been wounded by a divine arrow. without individuality of its own. hating it. which all constantly changed and renewed themselves. I confess that I haven't found it. Govinda saw it like this. which had just been the scene of all manifestations. which I can understand! Give me something to be with me on my path. Govinda. and they were all constantly covered by something thin. It it often hard. Like this. Govinda!" But while Govinda with astonishment. I see. the perfected ones are smiling. as he had seen it himself with great respect a hundred times.he saw the heads of animals. Siddhartha. saw Krishna. instead he saw other faces. perhaps very mockingly. was precisely of the same kind as the quiet. The face was unchanged. he saw him plunging a knife into the body of another person--he saw. which he had just kissed. that you have found peace. . my path. and this mask was smiling. of hundreds. giving re-birth to it. often dark. cold. this smile of Siddhartha was precisely the same. perhaps benevolent. and yet none of them died. in this very same moment touched with his lips. of crocodiles. of thousands. one more word. And. bent down closely to him and touched his forehead with his lips. impenetrable. a flowing river of faces. of birds--he saw gods. Govinda still stood for a little while bent over Siddhartha's quiet face. not knowing any more whether there existed a Siddhartha. all existence. Govinda knew. with an infinitely painfully opened mouth. something miraculous happened to him. He saw the face of a fish. this smile of oneness above the flowing forms. a carp. each one was a will to die. oh honourable one. of boars. like a transparent skin. delicate. like a thin glass or ice. received evermore a new face. obeyed his words.

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